


Billet-Doux en Noir et Blanc

by MoonCat457



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Bisexual Sirius Black, Gay Remus Lupin, Getting Together, Hooking up, M/M, Marauders AU, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mutual Pining, Oblivious Remus Lupin, POV First Person, POV Remus Lupin, Paris - Freeform, Photographer Sirius Black, Secret Relationship, Wedding date, art gallery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:33:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27412018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonCat457/pseuds/MoonCat457
Summary: Remus Lupin has a secret. Well, two actually. One, he’s been hooking up with Sirius Black—his best friend of eleven years and now roommate—on and off for those six years, and two, he’s deeply and irrevocably in love with Sirius, has been for those six years. And he thinks that those feelings will never be returned, which he’s alright with. Really, he is, or at least tries to be. But when Sirius asks him to be his last-minute date to his cousin’s wedding in Paris, Remus finds out that everything he’s thought to be true about his arrangement with Sirius is anything but.
Relationships: Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter - Relationship, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 41
Kudos: 200
Collections: Wolfstar Games 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Wolfstar Games 2020  
> Team Sight  
>   
> Prompt: Of all of our inventions for mass communication, pictures still speak the most universally understood language. — Walt Disney  
> 

The front door bangs shut, followed by a muffled grunt. “Uh, Moony, a little help!”

I abandon my attempt to figure out the contents of the fifteenth box that I didn’t label and rush out of my new bedroom and down the hall. “Jesus, Pads. I would have gone down with you if you said something,” I say, stifling a laugh at the way Sirius is overloaded with awkwardly shaped trash bags stuffed with bed linens, a floor lamp, and a suitcase.

“I thought I had it!” he says, a little indignant at me laughing at him. “Help, please?”

“Right!” I rush forward and take the lamp and the suitcase from him so he’s able to set down the bags.

“Thanks. That’s the last of it, by the way.”

“Oh, thank God,” I sigh in relief. “I don’t think I could carry any more boxes.”

“Excuse you, I did most of the heavy lifting.” Sirius gives me a pointed look as he plops down on the couch. “I mean, honestly, Remus, you did not have this much stuff when we last lived together. What the hell happened?”

“I didn’t ask you to take the heaviest boxes. Also, the last time I lived with you, we had to fit three people’s stuff into one dorm room,” I remind him.

“True,” he concedes, “but you still accumulated a lot of junk over the years.”

“And you haven’t? I mean—” I gesture around the mostly put together living room, “James moved out, and yet this place looks almost the same, meaning all of this weird junk is yours, right?”

Sirius barks out a laugh. “In my defense, a solid chunk of this was Jamie’s, but Lily didn’t want his bachelor pad stuff ruining her aesthetic.”

“Oh, God, her aesthetic,” I groan, dropping onto the couch next to Sirius.

He laughs again. “Right, you’re aware. You lived with her for four years.”

“That I did.”

“But now you’re free and get to enjoy the stag lifestyle.” He grins and nudges me with his shoulder.

“I’m not eating off paper plates, though. I have standards.” With a stretch, I sit up and rise to my feet again. “I should probably start unpacking.”

Sirius stretches, too. “I’m going to take a desperately needed shower to rinse off the sweat I worked up carrying your million-and-one boxes up the stairs.”

“It was not a million boxes!”

But Sirius, ignoring my protests, brushes past me with a hip bump and teasing smirk.

“Wanker,” I mutter under my breath.

“Heard that!” Sirius calls out before shutting the bathroom door. The shower kicks on, and I expect the entire flat to fill with a clanking noise like the one I shared with Lily used to, but it doesn’t. God, that will be nice.

Even though it’s late, I know that I should at least get my bedroom unpacked and set up, otherwise I won’t be able to sleep. With a tired sigh, I pick up the trash bags from the entryway and head to my bedroom. The room is filled with James’ old furniture, most of which he left behind in favor of him and Lily buying new things that were theirs and of better quality. Not that the furniture James left behind is cheap—James’ family is rich, after all—but none of it matches and it all kind of screams ‘stag,’ although that doesn’t bother me one bit. It’s an upgrade to the shitty furniture I had before, none of which would have survived the move across town, and it’s better than I could afford to buy since I’m saving up to own my own art gallery one day. Besides, I rather like it—the eclectic feel of pieces that aren’t meant to go together, but, for some reason, work together, anyway.

By the time Sirius is out of the shower, I’ve made my bed, moved any boxes that aren’t full of clothes out into the living room, and hung up my small amount of nicer clothes in the way-too big closet. I’m folding the rest of my wardrobe and shoving it into drawers when Sirius appears in my doorway.

“Wow, you’ve gotten a lot done,” he says in mild surprise.

“Don’t look in the living room,” I warn him.

He laughs, and I glance up to see him leaning against the door frame, dressed in black slim fit jeans and a plaid flannel shirt rolled up to the elbows. His wet chin-length black hair hangs in loose waves around his face, which is covered in a layer of stubble just long enough to be purposeful rather than out of laziness. He’s also wearing shoes, which is odd if he were planning on staying to help me unpack.

“Are you going out?” I ask.

He runs a hand through his hair and looks at me apologetically. “Yeah, I—See, Marls is kinda mad at me for—well, for asking you to move in with me instead of her, so I need to smooth things over.”

My stomach clenches at the mention of Sirius’ long-term on-again-off-again girlfriend. “Sorry. I didn’t—” I almost say that I didn’t want to be the cause of any problems between them, but that wouldn’t be all that truthful. I don’t like Marlene very much, mostly because of the way she and Sirius are together. She brings out the worst in him. But he’s my best friend and seems happy with her—at least when they’re in their “on” phase—so it would be selfish of me to say anything about it to him.

I shake my head to clear it. “If I had known that you two were ready for that, I would have continued to search for my own—”

“It’s not your fault,” Sirius says firmly. “Marls and I _aren’_ t ready for that yet, which is why I asked you to move in with me.”

“But she thinks you are,” I say matter-of-factly.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Apparently. Don’t worry about it. It’ll blow over. I’m just sorry I can’t help you unpack.”

“It’s alright. I was only planning on unpacking my bedroom tonight and dealing with the rest tomorrow,” I say before adding, “If you can live with the boxes, that is.”

“Yeah, and I guess you don’t really need three sets of hands for one room, huh?” Sirius says with a laugh.

“Three?”

“I assumed Fabian was coming to help,” he says, although it comes out more like a question.

Right. Fabian. I take a deep breath and glance back down at the t-shirt I was in the middle of folding to avoid Sirius’ gaze. “He has to work tonight,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Oh, well, do you need help then?” Sirius asks, pushing off the doorframe. “Because I can always tell Marlene that I need to reschedule—”

“No, it’s fine,” I interrupt. “You should go fix things with Marlene.”

Sirius gives me an uncertain look.

“Go, Sirius. I’ll be fine unpacking by myself. I’m almost done, anyway.”

Sirius stares at me for a long moment, then nods. “I’ll be back tomorrow to help with the rest of it, okay?”

I nod, and he leaves the room. Once I hear the front door shutting and the lock clicking into place, I let out a long breath.

I feel bad for lying to Sirius. I just couldn’t handle telling him the truth on top of the stress of moving. And the truth is that Fabian isn’t working tonight—or maybe he is. I wouldn’t know because we broke up last week for a reason not all that dissimilar to the reason Marlene is pissed at Sirius. Fabian was upset that I was going to be living with Sirius, but not because he wanted to live with me. We’d only been dating for a few months, which was way too early for cohabitation. No. Fabian was upset because he, like every other one of my exes, had figured out my secret—well, one of my secrets, anyway. I only have two. And Fabian had figured out the one I plan on taking to the grave.

He figured out that I am deeply and irrevocably in love with Sirius Black, have been since I was fifteen, and probably would be until the day I die. And what man wants his boyfriend sharing a home with the love of his life when it isn’t him?

*** * ***

It doesn’t take long for me to spot Lily sitting at the bar, her strawberry blonde hair sticking out in contrast to the crowd. I weave around a group of people playing darts and tap her on the shoulder.

“Rem!” she exclaims, sliding off her stool to greet me. She raises on her toes to throw her arms around my neck, and I loop my arms around her waist in response. “Is it weird that I already miss you?”

I laugh and squeeze her tightly. “No, because I miss you, too.”

While I had only moved across town to a different, slightly nicer neighborhood in London, Lily and James had moved to one of the surrounding suburbs so they could rent a row home. It’s why Lily and I haven’t seen each other all week, because with how far she lived now, this is the only time we’ve had to meet up. And after four years of seeing each other daily, I’m not used to it. But, I guess I’ll have to now that we’ve all graduated university and stepped foot into the actual world.

We release each other and once we’re sitting in two of the available barstools, Lily slides a gin and tonic to me.

I smile gratefully and take a sip. “Besides, I can guarantee we don’t miss each other even half as much as Sirius and James miss each other.”

Lily tosses her head back and laughs. “Oh my God, it’s only been a week, but poor Jamie is miserable. I mean, he’s happy to be living with me, of course, but…”

“No, I know what you mean,” I say, smirking into my drink. “Sirius has been walking around like a sad puppy. He thinks I don’t notice, but I do.”

“Our ridiculous boys,” she says with a laugh.

I choke slightly on my drink, but cover it by forcing a laugh. “I’m not sure Sirius can really be anyone’s.” I would like for him to be mine, but I don’t need to tell Lily that.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lily giving me a skeptical look, but then she smiles sadly. “Speaking of our boys, have you heard from Fabian?”

When Fabian broke up with me, I had just told Lily that we’d had a fight. I hadn’t wanted her to worry or ask why we broke up. But clearly she isn’t going to let it go, so I continue to stare at my drink and mumble, “We, uh, we officially broke up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, babe,” Lily says, although she doesn’t sound all that sorry. “I’m guessing that Sirius is taking your mind off of it, though.” She raises a skeptical eyebrow at me when I give her a questioning look. “Oh, are you guys no longer sleeping together now that you’re living together?”

I can’t cover my choking on my drink with a laugh this time. I only have two secrets. The first is the torch I’ve been carrying for my best friend for close to eight years, and this is the second. I’m not only in love with him, but I’ve also been sleeping with him on and off for seven of those eight years. Fabian and every one of my exes knew about the first one, but I didn’t think anyone but me and Sirius knew about the second one. But apparently, I’m wrong.

“W-what?” I manage to say in between coughs.

Lily flags down the bartender, who sets a glass of water in front of me. “Thanks,” she tells him before turning back to me. She stares as I chug the water, her face the epitome of patience.

“What are you—?” She gives me a pointed look, and I sigh. “How did you know?” I ask in resignation.

“I picked up that you liked him in that way pretty early on, probably around Upper Sixth? Then I lived with you for four years. Not that hard to put together.”

“Does James know, too?”

“I haven’t told him, and he has said nothing to me,” she promises. After a beat, she places a hand on my forearm, forcing me to meet her gaze. “Rem, you need to set boundaries.”

“I’m aware.”

“And now would probably be a good time to do that, seeing as you’re under the same roof,” she continues.

“I know, Lily!” I snap. I focus my attention on my drink, stirring it with the cocktail straw. “It’s just complicated, okay?”

“Why? Because you’re in love with him?”

“I’m not in love with him,” I say, the lie easily rolling off my tongue, because it’s a lie I’ve been telling myself on and off for the past seven years.

“So it’s just sex then?”

“Just sex,” I agree. “And not even all that often. Only when both of us happen to be single.”

My phone goes off with a text, providing me with a blessed distraction from this uncomfortable conversation.

“Tell Sirius I say hi,” Lily says. “You get this soft little smile whenever he texts you or walks in a room,” she adds, by way of explanation.

“I do not.”

“What did he even say?”

“We’re out of milk.” I let out a small sigh.

Lily sighs. “Are you sure moving in with him was a good idea?”

No. “I’m okay, really, Lils. I’ll figure it out,” I say instead.

“Sweetie—”

“So, have you strangled James for leaving his laundry everywhere yet?” I grimace as soon as it comes out of my mouth. Not my best conversation-segue.

“Yes, I’ve already strangled him and buried him in the yard,” she says without missing a beat. “You can’t distract me from talking about this, Remus. You’re going to get hurt if you don’t—”

“Set boundaries, I know. I just—I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?” Lily’s right. I should set boundaries. I _need_ to set boundaries. Otherwise, things are just going to get harder than they already are.

She gives me a sympathetic nod. “Fine. You know I just want you to be happy, right?”

I nod and give a small smile. “So, how is suburban life treating you?” I ask, and she begins to fill me in on her life.

We only stay for one more round of drinks and a shared order of greasy fish and chips before Lily needs to head home, seeing as she has a forty-five minute drive back to her new place rather than a fifteen-minute walk like I do. Even with me stopping to get milk at the corner shop, I still make it back to the flat before Lily’s text that she’s home safe comes through.

I unlock the door and am greeted by dark emptiness. I knew that Sirius would not be here when I got back—he texted me as much when he told me to get milk—but that doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed. Despite it only having been a week, I’ve grown to like coming back and finding him here, blasting The Strokes from his phone as he cooks dinner, sitting on the couch editing photos on his laptop, playing multiplayer games on the Xbox with James. It was nice. Living with Lily had also been nice, but there’s just something different about coming home to Sirius than there was going home to Lily.

I shake my head of the thought and put the milk and eggs–because I figured we were also out of those—in the fridge before heading back to the entryway to shuck my jacket and shoes. Now that it’s October, my woolen jumpers aren’t cutting it on their own anymore. I prefer the colder weather though, because any time that I get to bundle up under a pile of blankets with a warm beverage and a book is a good one. And since I have the flat to myself for the night, that’s exactly what I plan on doing, so I flick the locks into place and shuffle to my bedroom to change out of my jeans.

I dig a fresh pair of flannel pajama bottoms out of the top drawer of my dresser and am about to shimmy out of my tan skinny jeans when I hear the front door lock click again. The door slams shut with a loud bang and I hear keys being thrown into the bowl on the side table where we put our mail and such. I quickly re-button my jeans and pad back down the hall to the living room.

“Padfoot?” I call. Sirius just grunts in response as he kicks his shoes off with a little more force than necessary and throws his leather coat onto the hook. “Weren’t you going to stay at Marlene’s tonight?” I ask.

“Yeah, we’re finished,” he replies, scrubbing his hands through his hair before fixing his gaze on me. It’s piercing, filled with a fire that I’m all too familiar with. It’s the same expression he gets every time he and Marlene break up. One that’s partial anger left over from whatever screaming match he just finished having—and when they broke up, there was always screaming of some sort—and half lust. And it’s the second half of that expression that gets me every time, because I know what it leads to. We’ve fallen into a predictable pattern concerning it: Sirius and Marlene get into a row, inevitably leading to a break up, Sirius storms over to my place, and without even talking about what happened, we hop into bed with each other.

And even with my conversation with Lily tonight about needing to set boundaries now that Sirius and I live together, I know that I’m not going to. It’s absolutely unhealthy, but I can’t help it. Every time I think about trying to interrupt the cycle— to set boundaries or rules or cut him off completely because that would be the healthiest option—all it takes is the look, and I’m done for.

I’m fully prepared for Sirius to close the distance between us and claim my lips with his own impossibly soft ones—I even take a few steps toward him without really realizing it—but then he surprises me. He shoves his hands through his hair once more, then stalks off toward the kitchen without another glance.

He’s already popping the cork off the bottle of wine we opened last night with dinner and pouring us two glasses once I manage to pull myself together and scramble after him. Without a word, he hands me a glass then hops up on the counter to sit. If I weren’t so confused—and mildly disappointed, although I’m shoving that emotion as far down as I can—the sight of the 6’2” man sitting on the counter like a child with a glass of red wine in hand would be almost comical. Instead, it’s just unsettling.

I lean against the counter opposite him and take a slow sip of my wine. My instinct is to ask him what happened, but I think better of it. If he wants to talk, he can do so in his own time.

After he drains about half his glass in one go, he sets it on the counter and focuses his gaze on me. “Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

“Do you want me to ask you what happened?” I return, keeping my voice as even as I can.

“She met someone else. Some girl in her lit program named Dorcas.” he says.

“I’m sorry, Pads,” I say, meaning it. As much as I believe that they weren’t right for each other, finding out that your significant other has feelings for someone else is hard.

He shrugs and picks up his wine again. “I’m not all that upset. I feel like I should be, but I’m not. I feel like an idiot, more than anything else. Apparently, Marls’s been developing feelings for a while now. I should have been able to figure out that something was wrong, right?”

I chew on my lip and stare into my wine. “Or she was just great at hiding it,” I offer.

“Or I wasn’t paying attention enough.”

I lift my head at that. “Her developing feelings for someone else isn’t a reflection of how you were in your relationship with her. Sometimes it has nothing to do with the person you’re with. They could be completely amazing and yet…” I would know, seeing as I carry more than enough guilt for being the Marlene in every one of my breakups. It was never because I didn’t care for the person I was with. I truly did care for Fabian, and Benjy before him, and Caradoc before _him_ , but at the end of the day, it had everything to do with Sirius, who I just can’t seem to let go.

“I appreciate that, Moons, I do,” Sirius begins, “but you and I both know that I wasn’t the best boyfriend to Marlene. We were awful together. So I guess I can’t really be upset that she went out and found someone better. I guess I have to find a new date for my cousin’s wedding next month, huh?”

“You’re still allowed to be upset. You’re entitled to your feelings,” I remind him.

“It would be a little hypocritical of me though, wouldn’t it?” he mumbles.

Before I can ask him what he means by that, he drains the rest of his wine and jumps off the counter. “I think I need a shower.”

I nod, and with that I’m alone, left wondering what I’m supposed to do. I want to be a good friend and help Sirius through his breakup, but he doesn’t seem that upset about it. Is he faking that? I also can’t help wondering why he didn’t attempt to make any sort of move on me. Could it be that he was trying to set some boundaries on our relationship now that we were living together? And shouldn’t I be grateful for that?

I let out a heavy sigh just as Sirius pokes his head back in the kitchen.

“Are you coming?” he asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes that makes them look more silver than grey.

“Oh!” I exclaim, a blush rising on my cheeks. “I didn’t realize that was an invitation.”

He smiles and steps close, extending a hand for me to take.

My heart hammers in my chest as I stare up at him. Now would be a great time to set those boundaries Lily and I were just talking about. I don’t, though. I toss back the rest of my wine and interlace our fingers, reveling in the warmth of his hand and the warmth of his lips on the back of my hand before he leads me toward our shared bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

“Sirius! I’m home!” I call, dropping my keys into the bowl.

“Kitchen!” he calls back over the faint sound of The Kooks playing from what sounds like his laptop speakers.

I hang up my jacket and toe off my shoes before padding into the kitchen. Sirius is standing over the stove stirring a pot, his hair a little wild, like he’s been shoving his hands through it repeatedly, and still in the same sweatpants he had on when I left for the gallery this morning. He looks as if he hasn’t gotten out of the flat all day, which is unusual for him. Not only that, he looks frazzled.

“Oh thank God,” Sirius says once he notices me in the doorway. “I’m in crisis mode.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, crossing over to the stove to peer into the pot. “Also, stew?”

“Yup. And it’s my portfolio. I need to submit it to that travel magazine by tonight. Otherwise they won’t consider my application to be a full-time freelancer, even though I’ve worked with them before.” He tastes the broth and furrows his brow. “Taste that,” he orders, holding the spoon out for me.

I lean forward and bring my lips to the battered wooden spoon. Sirius cups his hand underneath it to catch and spills, brushing his fingers along my chin as he does. I can’t tell if it’s on purpose, but my heart flutters all the same.

“Needs thyme. And a touch more salt,” I suggest, my voice coming out a little breathier than I would like for it to.

“Thyme!” he exclaims. “Thank you.” His grey eyes focus on mine and brushes my cheek, lingering for a moment before he leans around me to rummage through the spice cabinet.

“So, your portfolio?” I prompt, needing a distraction from the almost moment we just shared—one of many over the past two weeks since Sirius and Marlene called it quits for good this time.

“Right,” he begins, “so I’ve been going through my photos all fucking day, and I can’t decide what to include, and at this point, I’m close to not submitting anything at all because everything’s terrible—”

“Hey,” I interrupt, putting a hand onto of his where it’s resting on the counter. “You’re a talented photographer, Sirius, and I’ll fight anyone who says anything different.” Once he’s looking at me, I smirk and add, “including you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile. “I’d like to see you try seeing as I’ve got four inches and twenty pounds on you.”

I shrug. “I could take you. But anyway, how can I help?”

“Can you make the final decisions for me? I’ve got it narrowed down to around fifty I don’t hate, but I keep second guessing myself.”

“Of course. How many do you need?”

“Fifteen. I have five picked out though, so really ten.” He flips his hand to squeeze mine, which I didn’t realize I’d left on top of his. “Thanks, Moons.”

I force a calm smile and slip my hand out of his. “Are they up on your laptop already?”

“Yeah,” he says over his shoulder. “If it locked, my password’s—”

“Mischief managed,” I finish. “I remember.” I type in the password and take the liberty of changing his Spotify to play Death Cab for Cutie instead of The Kooks before sorting through the fifty plus photos he has open. To the average person’s eye, they don’t seem to have anything in common. Some are portraits, some are still life, a lot are landscapes, but somehow they all seem to capture how Sirius must see the world. High contrast, vibrant, full of color and life.

“How’s it going?” Sirius asks. He sidles up behind me and rests his hands on my hips as he looks over my shoulder at the screen.

My breath almost catches, but I shake myself out of it. “I narrowed it down to sixteen. This one’s my favorite, by the way,” I say, pointing to one of the Hogwarts campus at night and covered in snow.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I like the contrast between the dark sky and the white of the snow and how you captured a section of snow undisturbed by footprints. There’s something mysterious, yet calming about it.”

“See, this is why I love asking for your help. You’ve got an art brain.” He wraps his arms around my waist and gives me a small squeeze. “Thanks. Oh, and dinner’s ready.”

We eat in relative silence with Sirius working on the last touches of his portfolio and me scrolling through Instagram on my phone, looking at the profiles of new local artists. 

“I’ll take care of the dishes,” I say as I get up from the small dining room table, having finished eating before him.

“Mm-hmm,” Sirius says distractedly without taking his eyes off his screen.

It doesn’t take long to clean up since Sirius tends to clean as he cooks, and when I return to grab his bowl, I notice that he’s barely touched it. Without a word, I take it to reheat it in the microwave for him. I’m just setting it back on the table when he shuts his laptop with a relieved sigh.

“Ok, sorry. I’m done—Did you reheat my stew for me?” he asks.

“You let it get cold,” I say with a shrug.

His face breaks into a wide grin. “Thanks.” He takes a bite and chews it thoroughly before speaking again. “Since it’s Friday, do you want to have a movie night? Stay up way too late like we used to?”

“I can’t promise that I won’t fall asleep, but sure.”

“Moons, it’s barely eight o’clock. Don’t tell me you’ve turned into an old man only five months after graduation,” he teases between bites.

“I had to catalog an entire shipment for Minnie today. I’m exhausted,” I fire back.

“Oh, well, we don’t have to if you want to go to sleep.”

I frown at the disappointment hidden behind the forced nonchalance in his voice. “No, I want to. Just don’t take the mickey out of me if I pass out.”

“I would never,” he says, his grin returning.

I roll my eyes and turn on my heel. “I’m going to change,” I toss out over my shoulder on my way to my room.

Ten minutes later, I re-emerge in my comfiest jumper, a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, and my brown, plastic framed glasses that I only need to correct an astigmatism to find Sirius sprawled on the couch under one of my throw blankets.

“Budge up,” I say, nudging his legs so I’ll have a place to sit.

“But I’m comfy,” he whines dramatically. He scoots closer to the back of the couch and pats the space in front of him. “Just lie here.”

I blink at him for a moment. It’s not unusual for Sirius to be more on the cuddly side. He’s always been physically affectionate, not only with me but James and Lily, as well. And yes, we’ve ended up spooning on a couch and watching a movie before, but that followed us doing something that was significantly… more.

“What’s that look?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

I mentally shake my head to clear it. “Nothing,” I say.

“Ok, then come here. It’s cuddle weather.”

I could ignore it and sit in the oversized armchair by myself. But then he props himself up on an elbow and reaches a hand out for me, and I can’t help but take it. He smiles, pulls me onto the couch, and throws the blanket over the both of us.

“So what do you want to watch?” he asks.

“You can pick.”

“Oh, look! _Oceans 11_ is on,” he exclaims. He changes the channel and tosses the remote onto the coffee table.

“Haven’t you seen this movie at least fifteen times?” I ask as I shift down the couch to tuck my head under his chin so we can both see the TV with ease.

“Why do you care when you’re going to fall asleep anyway, like some adorable old grandpa?” he teases. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer into his chest, and with the move goes any hope of me being able to pay attention to the movie.

“Shut it,” I mumble, thankful that he’s not looking at me and therefore can’t see the heat rising on my cheeks.

*** * ***

Lily and James are barely out the door before Sirius is on me, straddling me and pulling me in for a searing kiss. I let out a surprised grunt, which he muffles with his mouth on mine, but respond quickly, threading my fingers in his hair. After a long moment, he hums and pulls away.

“Sorry, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he says.

“Me, too,” I admit.

“I mean, really Rem, did you have to wear these jeans?” He trails kisses along my jaw. “You know they make your arse look fantastic and that it does things to me.”

I do, which is exactly why I wore them. In hopes for this. It was probably a given that tonight would lead this direction, seeing as we’ve fallen into bed together at least twice a week in the month I’ve lived here, and it’s Sirius’ birthday. But the jeans were a safety net, just in case.

“It was a special occasion,” I say, tilting my head back to rest against the back of the armchair so Sirius has better access to my neck.

“Cheeky bastard, so you did do it on purpose,” he growls.

My eyes flutter shut at the light scrape of his facial hair against my skin as he continues to litter my neck with open-mouth kisses. I let out a shuttering exhale and tighten my grip in his hair. “Have I ever mentioned that I enjoy the beard?” I murmur softly.

“I can tell,” he teases. He rotates his hips in a slow circle against mine, drawing a soft moan out of me, before dragging his lips back up to mine for a slow, but dirty kiss.

“Where?” I manage to ask between ragged breaths.

“Yours.” With a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth, he climbs out of my lap and pulls me up with him in one fluid motion. We’re halfway down the hallway when he has me against the wall. My arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer as our mouths collide again.

“Wait—” I say, breaking the kiss after a few moments.

His hands instantly still on their path up the back of my jumper. “What is it?”

“The leftovers,” I remember.

Sirius turns and cocks an eyebrow. “Is that what you’re thinking about right now?”

“Are you going to want to deal with them after?” I ask pointedly.

He whines and returns his hands to their original place along the small of my back, kissing me soundly as if to convince me to leave the food.

“Give me five minutes,” I promise.

“Two minutes,” he amends and brushes his lips against mine again. “Or I’m starting without you.”

I pull away and ignore the stiffness in my trousers as I all but run to the kitchen to throw the take-away containers into the fridge and re-cork the open bottle of wine. Then, not even a minute later, I’m back down the hallway and pushing open my bedroom door to find Sirius perched on the edge of the bed in nothing but his pants.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

Despite living with him for five years then sleeping with him on and off for six years, seeing him in all of his naked, rugby-muscle toned glory hits me the same way every time. My heart races, my mouth goes dry, my knees go just the slightest bit weak. And he knows it, too, because he always smirks and says something snarky.

He leans back on his hands. “What? See something you like, Moony?”

I let out an exasperated huff, cross the distance between us in two strides, and climb into his lap. “Do shut it, please.”

He laughs, which I quickly muffle as I press him down into the bed. “You affect me the same way, you know,” he whispers as I break away to drag my lips down to his neck.

“Don’t,” I warn. “Just—you don’t have to—”

“Moons, if you think I’m not undone by—oh, shit—” he moans as I suck a bruise onto his collarbone. It sends a shock-wave through me, and I think I’ve sufficiently shut him up, but he continues. “I’m undone by you. You’re still clothed and I’m already a mess.”

“Pads—”

His hands tighten on my jumper. “Off,” he orders, pulling at the hem.

I sit up and allow him to pull the jumper and t-shirt over my head.

He lets out an appreciative hum and runs his hands along my ribs and back before pulling me back for another bruising kiss. “God,” he mumbles against my lips. His hands slide to my arse, then to my fly. “These, too. Need to show you how hot you make me,” he says between increasingly sloppy kisses.

My breath hitches and I scramble off his lap to comply. Once my jeans join the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, Sirius pulls me back to stand between his knees.A shuddering breath leaves my lips and I stare down at him as he ducks his head and starts leaving wet kisses on my stomach.

He lifts his head and quirks an eyebrow. “What are you thinking?”

So many things. Things that I really shouldn’t be thinking. But I don’t say that. Instead, I do my best to shut my brain off. “I’m thinking that you’re the one whose birthday is today, and you should be the one showered with attention.”

A slow smile creeps onto his face. “I won’t argue with that.”

He scoots back onto the bed, leaning against my mountain of pillows, and I follow, slowly crawling to him before dipping my head to the crook of his neck. I close my eyes for a moment and breathe him in, allowing the last of my thoughts to disappear, then work a path down his toned physique. He makes a low, satisfied sound that spurs me on. I make quick work of his pants, then toss him a small smirk before settling between his legs.

His hands find their way into my hair, tugging ever so slightly in a way that drags a muffled whimper out of me. “Moons, you’re so—” he breaks off with an obscene moan, and I officially can’t take it anymore. I snake my hand beneath the waistband of my pants to relieve some pressure. He punches out another moan, and I can tell he’s close. My free hand grips his thigh while the other matches the pace of my mouth.

“Re—” he calls as he falls over the edge. His fingers tighten in my hair, taking me over the edge along with him.

I pull off him carefully and rest my forehead on his hip to catch my breath.

“Come here.” His hands wrap around my upper arms to bring me up to his mouth for a hazy, post-orgasm kiss. He rolls on top of me and slots a thigh between mine. “Oh, did you—?”

I nod.

“Got caught up in it, huh?”

I hum sleepily as traces circles on the small of my back, too satisfied to be embarrassed.

“I was kind of hoping to return the favor, though,” he says with a laugh.

I laugh, too. “Maybe later,” I suggest. Then, with a groan, “I should get myself cleaned up.”

He hums in agreement and brushes his lips on the corner of my mouth. “Can I stay?”

My heart flutters slightly. He’s never asked that before. It’s not like we’ve never slept together after having sex before, but that was back before when his own bed was across town, not ten feet down the hall. I mentally shake my head. I shouldn’t read into it. He’s probably too tired to move, and usually we’ve ended up in his bed so he doesn’t have to. And I always get up and pad back to my own bed.

Against my better judgement, I nod.

He smiles. “Toss me my pants on your way out?”

I head to the bathroom and clean myself up with a flannel, then make my way back to my room. Sirius is already under the covers and, so I pull on a fresh pair of pants, shut off the lights, and climb in beside him.

Beside me, Sirius hums and shuffles close to cuddle me from behind. “Your bed is always so much cozier. From now on, we’re staying in your room,” he says, lips brushing against the back of my neck with every word.

“Did you have a good birthday?” I ask, ignoring his statement. I can’t bring myself to think about the implications of that statement, or rather, what I wish the implications of that statement were.

“Of course, I did. I had you,” he presses a kiss to my neck, “and Jamie and Lily.”

“I know you would have preferred going out, but since it’s a Tuesday—”

“Tonight was perfect, Moons.” He punctuates it with another kiss.

We fall silent for long enough that I wonder if Sirius has fallen asleep, but then he burrows closer and sighs happily. “You’re so warm. I forgot how warm you get when you sleep. I kinda missed it.”

He missed it? It, as in my warmth or sleeping next to me? 

“Your warmth,” he murmurs, nuzzling my neck, and I realize I said the last part out loud. “Maybe both,” he adds in a whisper that I almost don’t catch.

I can’t think of anything to say in response, so I fall silent again.

“You should come with me to my cousin’s wedding,” he says, breaking the silence again.

“What?” I turn over to face him.

“Cissy’s wedding in Paris at the end of the month. You should come with me,” he repeats. “I already Rsvp’d with a plus one, so they’re counting on me bringing someone.”

“Wouldn’t you rather bring someone that you can pass off as an actual date?”

“It’ll be easier to face my family with you there. Besides, where would I even find some random girl to bring with me to Paris for a wedding?”

“I don’t know, Pads.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. We can do some sightseeing during the day, then at night we can freak out my homophobic family by dancing the night away.” He grins, which I can just barely see thanks to the moonlight streaming through the window.

I sigh and stare at him for a long moment. As much as he loves to complain about his family, I know that deep down he truly cares about their opinion. So this is likely some half baked idea that he’ll rethink in the morning. He can’t be serious about bringing me as his date. It’s the only reason I’m comfortable saying, “Yeah, alright. I’ll go with you.”

“You’re the best, you know that?”

“That’s just the wine and the orgasm talking,” I say.

He laughs and cups my cheek. “You never could take a compliment.” He gives me a slow kiss on my forehead, then tugs me into his chest and buries his face in my hair. “You are the best though,” he whispers, and I don’t bother arguing with him.

*** * ***

You know how in primary school, a person would come to your school and talk to you and your classmates about drugs? They would lecture you about gateway drugs and how even ones that seem harmless at the time could open you up to wanting to try other drugs, harder ones that could get you hooked. Well, at the time, I’d thought it was a bunch of nonsense. There was no way that smoking one joint could lead to us becoming addicted to snorting lines like the guy in _The Wolf of Wallstreet_ , which is exactly what the person wearing the D.A.R.E. t-shirt over an Oxford and tie said would happen. And seeing as how I’ve tried smoking once, decided I didn’t like it, and haven’t become a drug addict, I thought I was justified in my assessment that my primary school drug lecture was utter shit.

Except, I’ve come to realize that there was some truth to it after all. Because the thing about drugs they don’t tell you in primary school—because what eight-year-old could possibly understand endorphins?—is that addiction isn’t always just about the physical dependency. It’s also the emotional dependency. And that’s my problem. I knew having sex with Sirius was opening myself up to a world of complicated feelings, and for so long I could keep it at just that: just sex—or so I thought. But now… Now we live together, which allows for easier access for more sex, and that opens the gates to sleepovers without the excuse of it being too late for Sirius to drive home on his motorbike safely.

And now I’m addicted. When I’m with him, I get the best night’s sleep I’ve ever gotten in my life. It’s gotten to where on the occasional nights where Sirius doesn’t climb under my duvet, kissing my neck with promises of the release I so desperately crave, I can’t get to sleep. My head just fills with memories of his touch until his name is tumbling off my lips in a whispered prayer of solitary release. I’m in trouble. I should have listened to Lily and established boundaries. But I’m in it now. I’m not sure I could go back now, even if I wanted to. And I _really_ don’t want to. Because even though I know the feelings are most likely one-sided, I can’t help the wave of happiness that washes over me as I watch Sirius climb into my bed for the fourth night in a row.

“You can keep reading,” Sirius says, dropping a kiss to my cheek before settling against the pillows. “I just couldn’t look at my laptop anymore.”

I set the book I’m reading on my nightstand and look up with a smile. “It’s fine. I was at a good stopping point.”

“Well, come here then,” he says, almost a purr. Instead of waiting for me to move, he takes my waist to maneuver me to straddle his lap and gives me a slow, deep kiss.

I break across his cheek, reveling in the contented sigh that leaves his lips.

“Oh, before I forget,” he starts, and I pull back to look at him. “I heard from that travel magazine today. I got the gig.”

My face splits into a grin. “Oh, Pads, that’s great!” I cup his face and leave him a series of kisses on his mouth. “I mean, I knew you would because you’re talented, but still. I know this is more the thing you’ve been wanting to do.”

He grins back. “Thanks. It really is, and they’ve already given me my first assignment.”

“Well, where are you going?”

“I mentioned Cissy’s wedding, and they said that they have a spread on romantic destinations coming up for the February issue, so they want me to get some shots of Paris. Do you think you’ll be able to get a few extra days off?”

I tilt my head in question.

“Did you forget?” he asked. “Or did you change your mind?” he continued when I didn’t answer, disappointment obvious in his voice.

“No, I didn’t—I didn’t think you were serious. I figured you’d end up finding an actual date, and that I was your backup—”

“You weren’t my backup,” he says, cutting me off. “If I wanted a random date, I would have gone out and found one. But I don’t, and I didn’t. I want you there.” The way he says it with such conviction makes me wonder if he’s trying to tell me something. His hands slide up my sides to the sides of my neck. “You, my best friend, who I have fun with and makes me feel brave enough to face my shit family.”

Sirius’ family is awful. A bunch of rich, snobbish, racist homophobes. I understand why he wouldn’t want to bring someone that wasn’t aware of the situation. He wants someone—a friend—to support him, which I can do.

“I’ll talk to Minnie,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t leave you to deal with that on your own, you know that.”

He gives me a soft smile and leans forward to press an even softer kiss to my lips. “I’ll book the train tickets in the morning, then. Wednesday morning alright?”

I nod and lean in to kiss him more firmly this time, trying to push back the nagging voice in the back of my head that this is probably a dangerous idea.


	3. Chapter 3

Paris. I’m going to Paris, the City of Love, to go to a wedding with my best friend… Who I’m sleeping with. At least, if I get the time off, I am. I most likely will, though. I’ve worked at McGonagall’s Modern Art for only a few months, but I’ve known the owner for almost my entire life since she was childhood friends with Mam. It was how I got the job at the gallery to begin with—or at least the interview. Minnie will most likely give me the time off without a problem, even though it’s only with a few days notice, just to encourage me to take a vacation. She’s like Mam that way. Unwaveringly kind, at least to those who have proved they deserve it, and I like to think I have.

I get to the gallery first at a quarter to nine, as always, and unlock the side door with my set of keys. My coat isn’t even off and hung on the coat rack in the break room before Isobel, the gallery’s tabby cat, comes padding up to me. She weaves herself between my legs, purring loudly, no doubt requesting breakfast.

“Hang on, Izzy,” I say, unwinding the scarf from around my neck. She lets out a chirp and paws at my leg. “Oh, yes, alright, alright.”

I bend down and scoop her into my arms, giving her a chin scratch as I head over to her food bowl. She meows loudly when I set her down.

“Patience, Izzy. You know, if you actually ate the mice that come through here instead of leaving them for dead, you wouldn’t be so hungry in the morning,” I say as I fill her bowl with kibble. She meows indignantly and pushes past my hand to scarf down her food. Rolling my eyes, I cross the break room to the kitchenette to make a pot of Earl Grey before starting my work for the day.

Minnie arrives through the front door at half-past ten with a box of pastries from the bakery down the street in hand. I smile and wave slightly from my chair at the front desk. “Morning, Minnie. There’s a pot of Earl Grey in the back.”

“Thank you, Remus dear,” she says with a warm smile that contradicts her otherwise severe bone structure. Her whole appearance is one big contradiction when I think about it, though. She has a strange dichotomy of relaxation and structure that I’ve never quite seen anywhere else. Her long black hair streaked with grey, which she wears in a tight bun on the top of her head, and her thin-rimmed rectangle glasses both say no-nonsense, but her flowy tartan robe-like sweater and loose-fitting pants scream creative comfort.

“Did you feed Isobel?” she asks as she sets down the pastry box before heading to the back to hang up her coat and oversized leather purse. 

“Yup!”

“And did she finally catch that last mouse?” she calls from her office.

“I have seen no evidence of a murder yet,” I return.

I hear a tutting sound of disapproval, and seconds later Minnie emerges from the back, Isobel cradled in her arms. “Honestly, Isobel, what are we going to do with you? You can’t expect me to let you live here without carrying your weight.” Isobel whines, and Minnie lets her down, then heads around to the front of the front desk to open the box of pastries. “Biscuit?”

I shake my head and hold up my hand. “So I finished cataloging everything in the storage room, talked to the caterer for the open house next month, and put in an order with the stationer for our holiday advertisements. Is there anything else that you need me to work on?”

“You’ve been quite busy this morning. I didn’t expect any of that to be done until next week.”

“I wanted to get a jump start on it because—I know it’s last minute, but I need to take a few days off.”

Her face shifts from one of surprise to one of concern. “Oh, is everything alright? I haven’t heard anything from your mother, but—”

“Oh, no, everything’s fine!” I blurt, and her face relaxes. “I’m going out of town for a few days. My roommate’s cousin is getting married out of town, and when he Rsvp’d, he had a plus one and now he doesn’t.”

“So he asked you?”

“Yeah, and we’re going a few days early so Sirius can get some photos for a travel magazine he recently started freelancing for,” I explain, although I’m not entirely sure why I feel the need.

“When do you leave?” 

“We leave next Wednesday, but I’ll be back by the following Monday.”

“And your roommate—is the young man that pops by every so often, correct?” She selects a biscuit out of the box and takes a bite.

“Yes,” I answer slowly, trying to read her expression.

She hums and raises her eyebrow slightly. “Where’s the wedding?”

“Paris.”

“Ah, how romantic,” she muses.

“Oh, it’s not… We’re just friends. His… Well, his family is kind of awful, so he needs the moral support,” I stammer.

“Have a biscuit, Remus,” Minnie says, holding the box out to me.

I take one, but don’t eat it yet.

“Of course you can have the time off. You have taken none since you started here. You’re due for a vacation,” she says with a smile. “But, since you are going to be in the area, would you mind getting in touch with an artist for me? It would save me the trip.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear. I’ll get you the address before you leave, but I believe his studio is off the Champs-Élysées.” She pauses and looks away with a wistful expression for just a moment before directing her gaze back to me. “You know, I had someone like Sirius when I was your age. We said that we were ‘just friends,’ as well, but eventually we realized that was no longer the case.”

“Minnie?”

“I wouldn’t close yourself off to the possibility of more with this young man,” she continues. “You’re going to be in the City of Love, after all. Anything is possible.”

I take a bite of the biscuit for no other reason than to give myself something to do, because I have no idea what to do with that advice.

*** * ***

“Sirius, you’re my best friend, but I swear to God the next time we go anywhere, and you book us a seven am train, I’m going to murder you and bury you in Lily’s backyard,” I mumble.

Sirius chuckles. “We’ll get you some tea on the train and you’ll be good to go, I promise.”

“No. I’m sleeping on the train. You’re going to have to entertain yourself,” I say, louder this time, which just makes him laugh again. “Morning people.”

He throws an arm around my shoulder and shuffles us along slowly to keep up with the moving line to go through passport control. “Come on, sleepy.”

After another ten minutes in line and a quick check of our passports, we’re able to board the train, and Sirius steers us to a section of seats facing each other. While Sirius puts our carry-on bags in the overhead compartment, I slide into the seat closest to the window and put my feet up on the seat across from me, then use my balled up jacket as a pillow to lean against the train wall. At least the benefit to a seven am train is that it’s not full, and I can stretch out to get some more sleep.

I expect Sirius to take the seat next to me, but instead, he slides into the seat across from me. “Why?” I whine as my feet fall back to the floor. “There are three other seats you could pick. Why are you stealing my footrest?”

“If you’re going to be sleeping the entire time, I at least want to enjoy the scenery,” he teases. He shifts in his seat and pats the space on the seat between the wall and his thigh. “Put your feet back up, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks.” I carefully lift my feet back onto the seat and cross my legs at the ankle.

Sirius smiles, pulls out his phone, and pops in one of his AirPods. “Do you want nap music?” He asks, holding the other out to me.

I laugh lightly. “The Arctic Monkeys and Bowie are a little too upbeat for naps.”

“I’m capable of listening to other types of music,” he counters.

“It’s okay, Pads. Thanks, though.” I smile and settle against my makeshift pillow. “Wake me up when we reach the city, will you?”

“Sure thing.” He pops his other AirPod in, and rests his hand on my calf.

I close my eyes, and after a few minutes, I can feel Sirius start to stroke the small patch of skin between my cuffed jeans and high-top Converse with the pad of his thumb. I will myself to open my eyes to look at him and maybe see if he’s doing it on purpose or if it’s an unconscious thing. But I’m too tired and the soothing motion of his hand on my leg and the vibrations of the moving train lull me to sleep.

Sometime later, a gentle squeeze on my calf wakes me up. “Are we—?” I croak, then clear my throat and try again, “Are we almost there?”

Sirius smiles. “Yeah. About five minutes out. Feeling better?”

I rub my eyes and stretch slightly. “Yeah, sorry I was grumpy earlier.”

“Rem, I’ve known you for eleven years,” he says with a laugh. “I’m well aware of how grumpy you are when you haven’t gotten enough sleep. And we didn’t exactly get to sleep early last night.” He flashes a smirk that has a blush threatening to creep up my neck.

“Not for lack of trying on my part.”

“I don’t seem to remember you complaining much at the time, though,” he fires back.

“I’m not complaining now, either,” I say lowly.

His smile softens, and he squeezes my leg again, right as the train comes to a stop. The conductor comes over the speaker and announces our arrival, first in French, then in English, although both Sirius and I can understand it without the translation. Well, most of it anyway. There was a time where I was nearly fluent in French, as was Sirius, but both of us have gotten a little rusty since leaving Hogwarts, seeing as Foreign Language wasn’t a requirement at university.

Sirius gets up and pulls our weekend bags down as I slide on my coat, then throws both over his shoulder.

“I can carry mine, Pads.” I try to grab it from him, but he keeps a hold on the strap.

“It’s fine, Moons. It’s not like either of them is that heavy. Hell, we could have packed in the same bag, honestly,” he says with a shrug.

I give him a questioning look, but he doesn’t see it since he’s already making for the train’s exit. He had a point. Both of our bags were only about half full since it was only a five-day trip, but packing in the same bag is something a couple would do, and we’re decidedly not a couple. Just two friends, going to a romantic city together, sharing a hotel room, and going to a wedding together.

Alright, when I lay it out like that, it sounds a bit like we’re a couple. No wonder Minnie gave me the advice that she did when I asked her for time off. And she didn’t know that we’re sleeping together. Oh God, this was a terrible idea. Why did I agree to—?

My train of thought is cut short when I feel Sirius’ hand slip into mine, presumably to keep us from getting separated as we weave through the crowd in the train station. Not that it’s unusual, two friends holding hands to avoid getting separated in a crowd. I do it with Lily, and I’ve done it with James, too. But once we’re outside and waiting for a taxi, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he laces our fingers together, and when I look up at him, he smiles and gives my hand a small squeeze. His hand leaves mine once we’re in a car, and I wonder if it had meant anything, or if it had just been an unconscious action, but when we get out of the taxi in front of our hotel, his hand finds mine again. It stays while he drops our bags off with the concierge since we couldn’t check in for another several hours, and it stays as we step onto the street to explore and kill time waiting for our room to be ready.

Sirius adjusts his camera strap on his shoulder—because he’s always refused to wear the strap around his neck ‘like a tourist’—and starts down the street in the direction the concierge said to go to get to the Champs-Élysées. “So, what do you want to see first?” he asks, swinging our hands between us as we walk.

“I thought I’d let you lead the way since you’re the one that has an assignment to complete,” I say with a shrug.

“Technically, so do you, don’t you? You have to meet with that artist for Minnie, right?”

“Not until Friday. Therefore I’m completely at your mercy, itinerary-wise.”

“There has to be something on your list,” he prompts.

“Well, I’d like to see the Louvre—”

“I’ll pencil that in on Friday before the rehearsal dinner then,” he says with a smile. “Friday can be art day—Oh, hold on.” He comes to a stop and pops the lens cap off of his camera before holding it up to snap a picture of the Arc de Triomphe starting to come into view down the street.

I try to slip my hand out of his to give him use of both, but he squeezes it to keep it in place. “Don’t you need your hand?” I ask.

“Nope. Fixed lens today.” He gestures with his camera. “Besides, your hand is warm.”

“Oh, okay,” I murmur, ducking my head as we keep walking.

“That’s okay, right?” He stops again, pulling me to a stop with him.

I lift my head to see him looking at me, a little nervously. My heart skips. “Yeah, that’s okay,” I say with a smile, squeezing his hand. Of course it’s okay— _more_ than okay. I want to tell him I’d hold his hand for as long as he’d let me, because whatever this means, if it means anything, it’s too good to pass up, even if it’s not real in the way I want it to be real. That, even if it’s temporary, at least I can say I had it. That I’d probably let him snog me in the middle of the street if he wanted to.

I don’t though.

He grins and continues walking. “I’m thinking crepes for lunch,” he muses.

“Isn’t that more of a dessert than lunch?” I ask.

“There are savory crepes, you know, although I’m probably barking up the wrong tree with that one.” He tugs on my arm to pull me closer to his side, then nudges me with his elbow. “You and your sweet tooth.”

“I like chocolate, okay?” I say defensively.

He tosses his head back and laughs. “You’re cute when you’re all indignant. What if we compromise? I get a savory crepe, you get a sweet one, and we split them.”

“Deal.”

By the time we get back to the hotel, it’s close to ten pm.

We hadn’t meant to stay out so late, but after crepes, we walked along the Champs-Élysées, popping into random shops and pausing for Sirius to take some scouting shots, until we got to the Seine. Then, since we were having such an enjoyable time, we followed the Seine until we got to the Cathedral Notre-Dame, stopping in more shops—mostly book shops—along the way. Before we realized it, it was time for dinner, and then was dark, so we caught a taxi back.

We get our room keys and bags from the front desk, then head up the elevator to the fifth floor. Since Sirius has both of our bags, I slide the key into the lock of our room and throw the door open.

“I thought the concierge said we had a double room,” I say, gesturing to the bed in the room.

“It’s possible that we translated wrong,” Sirius says as he sets our bags down on the luggage rack. “It’s rare that we talk about bed sizes when we break out our secondary school French.”

“No, we mostly use our French skills to talk about people in front of them.”

“Well, what other reason would there be for speaking another language?”

I sit on the bed to unlace my Converse. “I don’t know. Being a cultured or well-rounded person?”

He laughs and sits on the bed next to me, resting his hand on my thigh. “You don’t mind, right?”

I hesitate for a beat, then look up. “No, I suppose not.”

“Good, then neither do I. I’m going to grab a shower,” he says before getting up. “Do you need the bathroom first?”

“Let me just get in there to brush my teeth,” I reply. “I’ll shower in the morning.”

He nods, and I grab my toiletry bag out of my luggage. A few minutes later, once I’ve brushed my teeth and splashed some water on my face, I emerge from the bathroom to let him take over. “All you,” I say, heading back to my bag to pull out my pajamas.

“Thanks, Rem.” He grabs his own toiletry bag and pajamas out of his bag then shuffles around me to get to the bathroom, brushing his hand along my lower back as he walks.

I swap out my jeans for pajama pants and pull out my phone charger, book, and glasses before climbing into the king-sized bed, which is surprisingly soft for a hotel bed. Nearly half an hour and four chapters of the random mystery novel I found while shopping today later, Sirius finally emerges from the bathroom. The man has taken ridiculously long showers for as long as I’ve known him, but at least he’s always been a night shower person, so it’s never been that big of a problem for me. He shuts off the main lights, leaving the room to be illuminated by the light built into my side of the headboard, and I go to set my book down, but he waves a hand at me.

“You can keep reading, if you want,” he says, then crawls under the covers and drops a kiss to my cheek before resting his head on my shoulder while he idly scrolls Instagram.

I try to continue reading, but whether it’s because I’m too tired or because the scent of Sirius’ sandalwood shampoo overtaking my senses is too big a distraction, I can’t focus on the words. So, after reading the same paragraph for the fifth time, I shut my book and set in on the nightstand. Then, without thinking, I turn to press my lips against his damp hair. 

He tips his head back to glance up at me, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Have I ever told you how much I like you in your glasses?” He asks.

“Really? I’ve always thought they didn’t fit my face right,” I say.

“I think they suit you. They give you a bit of a professor vibe.”

“I didn’t know you had a thing for the professor look.”

He laughs. “On you, I do.” He laces our fingers together and brings my wrist up to kiss the small crescent moon-shaped birthmark there, the one that sparked his nickname for me when we first met during our First Form. Then, before I can say anything in response, he turns his attention back to his phone. “How would you feel about going up into the Eiffel Tower tomorrow?”

“That sounds good. Do we need to get tickets beforehand?”

“Hmm, hold on.” He pulls up the website on his phone and scrolls through it. “It depends on if we want to go all the way to the top or not. If we do, we’ll have to wait in line at the in-person ticket counter.”

“Which would be better for you to get pictures?” I ask.

“Probably going to the top. Apparently the view is a ‘must-see’ of the city,” he says.

“We can do that then. It’s not like I’m afraid of heights or anything.”

He leans over and drops his phone on his nightstand. “No, just harmless spiders,” he teases.

“That was one time!” I exclaim, shoving at him. “Also, it wasn’t just a spider, it was a tarantula, and you would have screamed, too, if James put one in your pants drawer.”

He laughs and shoves back. “Maybe, but I definitely wouldn’t have jumped five feet in the air and onto a chair.”

I jab at his sides, where I know he’s sensitive, but he grabs me and pins me lightly against the mattress. “Not fair,” I complain. “You’re faster and bigger than me.”

“You started it!” He releases me, but stays hovered above me, propped up on his elbow. “Also, I seem to remember you saying you could take me.”

“And I could, if I wasn’t about ready to fall asleep,” I defend.

“Bedtime?” He asks, his voice softening.

“Yeah, I think so,” I say with a nod.

He leans down, cups my cheek, and gives me a long, gentle kiss. “I’ll get the lights,” he says, reaching up to hit the switch on the headboard that controls the lamp.

I slip my glasses off and set them on the side table, just as Sirius leans in to brush our mouths together again. My hands find their way into his hair, like they’re acting on their own accord, while I let Sirius lazily explore my mouth with his. However, I feel myself fading into sleep quickly. “I am pretty tired, though,” I reluctantly say, in between kisses. “I’m not sure if I’m up for—”

“It’s okay. Me neither,” he mumbles against my lips. With one last chaste kiss, he pulls away and settles next to me on his back, arms open in a silent invitation for me.

I hesitate—because cuddling without the precursor of sex is something that hasn’t happened since we were sixteen and our hookups consisted of awkward fumbling and snogging until our lips were chapped and swollen—but only for a moment before scooting into his arms. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his chest, and I tuck my head into the crook of his shoulder and tentatively curl my hand up on his chest.

“Are you going to be comfortable like this?” I ask. “I don’t want your arm falling asleep.”

He laces our fingers together on his chest and lifts his head to press a kiss on my knuckles. “I’m very comfortable.” His lips brush against my knuckles again, then against my forehead.

My eyes drift shut and soon I feel myself being lulled into sleep listening to Sirius’ steady and slowing breathing. I pull our hands toward me, brush a kiss on his knuckles, and tuck them under my chin, because I should just take advantage of this while I have it.

Then, just as I’m about to be dead to the world, I hear a soft whisper: “Good night, my Moony.”


	4. Chapter 4

The smell of bergamot and honey accompanied by a gentle shake of my shoulder wakes me. I turn over toward the bedside table to find Sirius sitting on the edge of the bed and holding a mug of tea. He smiles and sets the mug on the table. “I made you tea,” he says, brushing the hair away from my forehead.

I rub the sleep from my eyes. “What time is it? Did I oversleep? I didn’t hear our alarm go off.”

He laughs. “It’s just past nine. You were pretty dead to the world. I thought it would be better to wake you up more gently.”

“Since when?” I give him a wearied expression. “Your favorite way of waking me up in the past has been to jump on me like some dog.”

“I think you know I have a different way of waking you up that’s both our favorite,” he says, waggling a suggestive eyebrow at me.

With my eyes still half closed, I fist my hand in his t-shirt to pull him in for a kiss that tastes of coffee beans and hazelnut. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. I might need a demonstration.”

He smirks against my lips and winds his hand into my hair, deepening the kiss for just a moment before pulling away. “If I do that, we might not leave the room.”

I hum in agreement.

“Come on, lazy,” he says with a laugh. “We need to get up and going. I’ve got an assignment, remember?”

I groan and pull him back for another slow kiss. “Do you really need me for that?”

“I do,” he says with another kiss. “I’m supposed to take romantic photos of the city. I need my muse there to make sure I’m in the proper mood.”

I push him away to take in his entire face so I can gauge his sincerity. He quirks an eyebrow and flashes a sly, crooked smile. “You’re just trying to flatter me,” I say matter-of-factly, sitting up and grabbing my tea to give me something else to focus on besides him.

“I’m not,” he promises, “but is it working?”

I stay silent, not wanting to let him know that even the joke of me being his muse has me wrapped around his finger.

“If you get up and shower, I might be willing to go get pastries and bring them back for when you get out,” he offers.

“You don’t need to,” I say, softening slightly as I take a sip of my Earl Grey. “I’ll get ready, and we can go grab something in person. It won’t take long since I don’t take the World’s Longest Showers like you do.”

He frowns in offense, which is impossibly cute, and stands up to cross to his bag to get ready.

I catch his hand quickly and squeeze it. “Thank you, though.”

He breaks his pout to smile. “Hurry, though. I’m hungry and I want to get to the Eiffel Tower before I lose the morning light.”

An hour and two chocolate-filled croissants from the bakery around the corner from the hotel later, we’re leaving the box office at the Eiffel Tower, tickets in hand. I walk toward the line for the elevator, but Sirius tugs on my hand and pulls me toward the stairs.

“What are you doing? We paid for elevator tickets.”

“The elevator only goes to the second floor and the top, and I want to check out the first floor, too,” he says.

“I thought the best view was from the top, though,” I say, puzzled. But I allow him to drag me up the stairs, anyway.

“It is, but there’s something on the first floor that’s still worth seeing.”

“That’s not cryptic at all,” I deadpan.

He stops mid staircase and tosses a glance over his shoulder. “I thought you were ‘at my mercy itinerary-wise,’” he quotes back at me.

“I knew I’d regret saying that,” I tease. “But I did, so lead the way, I guess.”

“Just trust me,” he says with a wink.

After three hundred stairs, we make it to the first floor of the tower. We stop for a moment to catch our breath, despite both of us being in decent shape, and then Sirius pulls me forward again.

“Can you at least tell me what has you so excited?” I ask, laughing as I trail after him.

“Fine,” he whines. “I read about this art thing they did for Valentine’s day this year. They set up a photo booth of sorts in front of one window where couples could pose to kiss, then add heart with their names in it.”

“Aww, that’s sweet,” I coo. “And that would probably make for a great picture in the article.”

“That’s what I thought!” He says, grinning. “I just hope it’s still here—oh! It is!” He pulls me along to a giant, floor to ceiling window that overlooks the city, which still provides a pretty good view despite only being a third of the way up the tower. Painted on the window is a sketch of the tower with the words “Place To Kiss” scrawled above it, and surrounding the tower are at least one hundred pink hearts, each with a couple’s name filling the center. On the floor in front of it is a circular logo where couples should stand when they posed in front of the mural before adding their own names.

With a quick squeeze, Sirius drops my hand so he can fiddle with his camera settings.

I smile and lean against the wall so I’m out of the way while I watch him work. I pull out my phone and snap a quick photo of him from behind, then post it to Instagram. Seconds later, Sirius’ phone chimes with the notification.

He throws his camera strap over his shoulder, pulls out his phone, and tosses a smirk over his shoulder at me. “We’re in Paris and you’re posting pictures of me rather than the view?”

_You are the view_. “We haven’t gotten to the level with the view yet,” I say instead.

“Fair,” he says with a chuckle, then he extends a hand out for me. Without question, I take his hand, thinking he’s done and is ready to move onto the second floor. Instead, he pulls me toward the circular spot on the floor.

“What are you doing now?” I ask.

“Following the mural’s instructions,” he says, waggling an eyebrow.

“Wait, what—?” The protest dies in my throat as he winds his arms around my waist and pulls me flush against him. Reflexively, my hands land on his chest to steady myself.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his voice dropping to a whisper, although there’s no one in earshot.

He’s never wanted to kiss me in public before. That goes far beyond friends-with-benefits territory, at least with how we’ve operated before. Although, the past few weeks have been blurring that line more and more, especially with us just cuddling last night instead of—it’s almost as if—

Oh.

_Oh._

I stare up at him, searching his face for some confirmation for a question I haven’t even asked aloud. But I don’t need to, because he smiles—a soft smile I would probably miss if his face weren’t so close, and if I hadn’t known him for so long—and nods. I open my mouth to say something, but my breath is caught in my throat, so I lean up slightly and press my lips against his for a chaste, but lingering kiss.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him lift his phone and snap a selfie of the two of us. I pull away sharply. “Did you just—?”

He grins and brushes our noses together. “That’s kind of the point of this spot, isn’t it?”

“Are you going to post it?”

“Not right now.”

I let out a series of flustered sounds, opening my mouth and shutting it again as I try to figure out what to say. Is he sure? He’s not even out. Is that really how he’d want to go about doing that? And what about his family? They barely liked Marlene because she “wasn’t from the right family” but at least she was a girl. But me? Not only am I not from the right family—sure, I went to Hogwarts, just like him, but I was a scholarship kid who could only afford to go there because Da taught there—but I’m also not a girl.

He tucks his phone in his back pocket, then brings his hand up to cup my cheek, pulling me out of my thoughts. “And not if you don’t want me to. It’s just for me, anyway.”

“Ok,” I whisper, for lack of anything better to say.

“Ok, one more,” he whispers back before sliding his fingers into my hair, dropping his head, and bringing our mouths together. My breath catches as he bends me backward, like we’re in some movie, and I have to fist the collar of his leather jacket just to keep my balance. Our tongues tangle hotly together, and I can feel him smile as he nips at my lower lip gently before pulling away. I can’t help but whine at the loss.

“God, you’re cute,” he says with a chuckle as he rights us again.

“Hmm?” I ask dumbly, finally opening my eyes to look at him. I glance at my reflection in the glass window, and take in my flushed cheeks, blown pupils, and parted lips. I can’t really help how much of an effect he has on me, but at least when we’re behind closed doors no one else has to know. Right now though, we’re in public, and it’s mortifying. With a groan, I drop my forehead to Sirius’ collarbone.

He chuckles again and brushes his lips against my temple. “I guess I got a bit carried away,” he whispers, before pressing a kiss there. “But please don’t be embarrassed, because I quite like kissing you in public.”

“Really?” I ask, lifting my head.

He nods and hums in affirmation. “In fact, I might need to make a habit of it.”

My stomach flutters, and I can’t help the smile that creeps on my face. “Just perhaps not as thoroughly, because I look utterly debauched.”

“But, my love, that’s one of my favorite looks of yours,” he teases.

I swat at him, and he simply grins. “Come on, let’s go back down so we can take the elevator up to the top.”

“What? Don’t want to walk up to the second floor and go from there?”

“Are you carrying me up the other 337 stairs?” I retort.

He tosses his head back and laughs. “You’re cute, but you’re not that cute.”

I smile. “Let’s go then.” I extract myself out of his arms and slip my hand into his to lead him back to the stairs for a trip down that doesn’t leave us nearly as winded. Then, after a brief wait in the line for the elevator, and a long elevator ride, we reach the summit of the tower. A gust of wind greets us, making it seem at least five degrees cooler than it already is.

Sirius drops my hand to zip his jacket up, and I promptly shove my hands into my coat pockets. “I’m going to take a loop around to get some shots, okay?” he says, gesturing with his camera.

I nod and jerk my head toward one end. “I think I’m just going to stand over there and take in the view.”

“Sounds good.” He drops a quick kiss to my cheek then heads in the opposite direction while I head over to the railing looking over the Champs de Mars.

“It really is a beautiful view,” a voice says from behind me. I’m about to turn around when I feel Sirius press himself along my back. His hands slide into my coat pockets, and he hooks his chin on my shoulder.

“Your hands are freezing,” I say, lacing our fingers together inside my pockets.

“Mmm, you’re always so warm,” he coos, burying his face in my neck.

I flinch. “Pads, your nose is cold, too.”

“It’s windy,” he complains.

“Did you get what you need?” I ask.

“I think so.” His lips brush against my neck. “We can stay for a few minutes, though, if you’re not done.”

I crane my neck to see him. “No, you’re right. It’s cold. I need some tea to warm me up.”

“That sounds nice.”

He kisses me sweetly, and I really could get used to it. “Mmm, and more of that, because your lips are surprisingly warm compared to the rest of you.”

“I’d be more than happy to snog you in a cafe for warmth,” he says with a laugh.

I lean in for another kiss. “Shall we then?”

“Picture first, then yes.” He turns us so our back is to the railing, then his hand leaves my pocket as he reaches into his own for his phone.

“We already took a picture downstairs,” I protest.

“You’re with a photographer, you’ll just have to get used to it, love,” he says, pressing a kiss to my cheek as he snaps the picture.

*** * ***

“So, I’ll meet you in front of the Louvre in about an hour?” Sirius asks as we exit the hotel.

Since I have a meeting with that artist for Minnie, Sirius is taking advantage of the time I’ll be occupied to go get some secondary shots of places we’ve already been with some different lenses… or something like that. While I know a lot about art and photographs—I couldn’t not, working at a gallery and studying art history at university as I did—I know next to nothing about the process of actually creating art.

I nod. “It shouldn’t take that long, but artists…”

“Careful how you finish that sentence,” he warns playfully. “Photographers are artists, too.”

“I was going to say spacey, and I stand by that assessment of you,” I retort.

He gasps in mock offense, and I cock an eyebrow at him. He stares me down, trying to suppress a smirk, but ultimately fails. “Ok, you may have a point. I can get wrapped up in my work and lose track of time. But,” he drops a kiss to my forehead, “that’s why I’ve got you to keep me on track.”

“Lucky me,” I deadpan.

He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and gathers me into his chest for a long kiss.

A contented hum escapes my lips, and all I want to do is continue to stand here and kiss him—being in the middle of the street be damned—but I have a meeting that I really need to get to. “I should go,” I say when I drag myself away from him. “I’ll see you in an hour,” I promise.

“An hour,” he repeats. He squeezes my hand, then we part, him heading back toward the Arc de Triomphe while I continue down the Champs-Élysées to find the studio Minnie gave me the directions to.

It doesn’t take long to find it, however, as I expected, the artist isn’t ready for our meeting when I arrive, despite having confirmed the time with him last night. Other than that, though, the meeting goes well. He agrees to show some of his work in the gallery for the first commission percent I toss out without even haggling for a lower one. I exit the studio and pull out my phone to shoot a text to Sirius, letting him know I’m running late, then pull up my email to send Minnie the photos of the contract I took and converted into a PDF.

After a fifteen-minute walk, I make it to the Louvre and find Sirius waiting by the large glass pyramid, camera in hand as he sorts through the photos on the tiny screen.

“Hey there,” I say, sneaking up next to him and leaning up to rest my chin on his shoulder.

He startles, then relaxes. “Hey, how’d it go?” he asks. He throws his camera strap over his other shoulder, turns, and rests his now-free hands on my waist.

“It went well. He agreed to the contract, no problem. Did you get all the shots you wanted?”

“I did, so now I’m all yours for the rest of the weekend.”

“Lucky me,” I say, meaning it this time.

He smiles and brushes our noses together.

I tilt up my chin to steal a kiss. “So, do I get to see any of the photos you’ve taken or do I have to wait?”

“Wait, obviously,” he says, sticking his tongue out. “When have I ever shown you unedited photos?”

“Artists,” I mutter under my breath.

He tickles my waist lightly, then pulls me in for a quick kiss. “Come on. I got tickets on my phone, so we can skip the line.”

“Oh, I was going to get them since you got the Eiffel Tower tickets,” I say, frowning. “And our hotel. And our train tickets.”

“Well, first, it’s _my_ cousin’s wedding, so of course I got our hotel and train tickets,” he reasons. “As for the tickets yesterday, I can get reimbursed for those, so don’t worry about it. Besides, maybe I enjoy doing nice things for you.”

I sigh. “I want to do nice things for you too, though,” I point out.

“You do all kinds of things for me already,” he assures me. “They just don’t involve spending money, which is fine because I know you’re saving for your gallery.”

I open my mouth to protest again, but he muffles me with his hand. “Shh, we only have a few hours before we have to head back and get ready for Cissy’s rehearsal dinner. Wouldn’t you rather spend that time looking at art instead of arguing with me?”

“Fine,” I agree, begrudgingly, once he moves his hand.

He grins, then takes my hand as we walk to the entrance. The museum is huge, the world’s largest, in fact, and there’s no way we’re going to cover the whole thing. So, I grab one of the English translated pamphlets that has a map of the “must-see” works to give us a place to start.

“Well,” Sirius begins, hooking his chin over my shoulder to study the map, “obviously we have to start with the Mona Lisa, right?”

“That seems like the best place to start,” I acknowledge. “It looks like that’s where most of the paintings I’d want to see are, anyway.”

He kisses my cheek. “Lead the way, then.”

We slowly make our way through the crowds on the ground floor through the Italian sculptures and Roman Antiquities on our way to the stairs that lead to the first floor. He lets me set the pace, following closely behind and holding my hand whenever the crowd is thin enough for it to be workable. Every once in a while, we stop to look at some more recognizable sculptures, and I try to remember what I can from the multitude of art history classes I took at university. Sirius listens intently, and sometimes even asks questions, but I suspect that he isn’t really processing half of what I’m saying. Especially since I keep catching him looking at me more than the artwork.

“You’re not enjoying this as much as I am, are you?” I ask.

“What makes you say that?” He returns.

“You keep staring at me like you’re wondering when we’re going to leave.”

He shakes his head. “Alright, well, I have to admit that most of this is out of my artistic wheelhouse, I am enjoying myself. Besides, it’s not my fault you’re much nicer to admire than anything here,” he says cheekily, scanning my body exaggeratedly for effect.

“Wow, really? That was a lame line, even for you, Pads.”

“What do you mean ‘even for me’?”

“Your pickup lines are terrible is what I mean,” I tease.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that I don’t really need them anymore,” he says in a surprisingly soft tone.

I smile, slightly confused, but we continue on our way. Once on the first floor, we make our way through Italian paintings from the thirteenth through fifteenth centuries until we reach the crowd of people hovering around and taking pictures of what must be the Mona Lisa. We wait for the crowd to dissipate enough to see the painting.

“Is that it?” Sirius asks from behind me.

I laugh and toss a look over my shoulder at him. “Does it not live up to your expectations?”

“It’s much… smaller than I thought it would be.”

“It is quite small,” I allow. “But I suppose it’s the mystery behind it that makes it so popular.”

“So you’re saying that all it takes to make a piece of art famous is stealing it? Maybe the next time my work is up in a gallery, I’ll stage a fake heist.”

I laugh again and move to let other people see the painting. “Don’t get me involved though, especially if it’s Minnie’s gallery. I’d be the number one suspect.”

He gasps dramatically. “Minnie’s gallery? I would never. One, I hold too much respect for that woman. Two, my work would never make it into her gallery. I’m not her style.”

“That’s true. She doesn’t really do photography. Also, I don’t understand your love for her. You’ve only met her a handful of times.”

Once we’re out of the crowded hall, he slips his hand back into mine. “Minnie is a gem. I just love her whole vibe.”

I stop in front of a massive oil painting I recognize from my class on nineteenth century art.

“What’s this one?” he asks, stepping behind me again, this time wrapping his arms around my waist.

“The Raft of the Medusa,” I tell him.

“It’s really… realistic,” he says slowly.

“It’s Romanticism,” I explain. “It was a period all about invoking human emotion.”

“This is the opposite of romantic,” he says in disgust. “It’s positively gory.”

“That’s not what Romanticism was about, though. It was about the human experience and portraying it realistically. The fluid brushwork, the energized composition, the emphasis on movement—it was all to make the viewer feel something.”

He hums and stares at the painting for a moment. “I think the only thing I’m feeling is misery and despair.”

“Well, that is something. That was probably the artist’s intention.”

“Hmm. I guess I just don’t really understand that. That’s the opposite feeling I want people to feel when they look at my work. I want people to feel happiness or warmth. Whereas this—well, it looks like something that my parents would have up in their house.”

“I sincerely doubt that this behemoth would fit in your parents’ house.”

“You’ve never been to my parents’ estate,” he says flatly.

“Speaking of,” I begin, turning in his arms to face him, “should we head back to the room to get ready?”

“We still have time if you want to keep going. Honestly, the busier we are before going to this stupid thing, the better.”

“You really don’t want to go, do you?” I ask, reaching up to cup his cheek comfortingly.

“No, I don’t.” He smiles and leans into my hand. “But, at least I’ll have you there.”

“Yes, you will.” I lean up and kiss his other cheek.


	5. Chapter 5

The taxi pulls up in front of the restaurant and Sirius hands the driver a handful of Euros before climbing out. I climb out after him and watch as the car pulls away. Sirius stands on the curb, his hands shoved into his wool peacoat—which he only ever wears when he needs to face his family—as he stares at the doors with an uncharacteristically stoney expression on his face.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” I say hopefully.

His face softens when he looks down at me, but only slightly. “Maybe, but it probably will be. There will be fewer people, so my mother can truly focus in on me.”

My heart pulls for him, and all I want to do is scoop him into my arms to put the smile that was on his face a few mere hours ago back, but I know I shouldn’t. This is his family we’re talking about. They’re going to be horrified enough that he brought me as it is without me scandalizing them further by displaying overt signs of affection. So, I settle for resting a friendly hand on his shoulder. “That’s what I’m here for, though. I can be a buffer.” I squeeze his shoulder. “It’s not like she’ll say anything overly awful to you as long as I’m with you.”

“No, she’s far too proper for that,” he allows. He sighs and places his hand on top of mine on his shoulder.

“Exactly. And I don’t intend on leaving your side—not for a moment.”

He makes a soft sound and pulls me in for a fierce hug. “Thank you,” he whispers.

I squeeze him tightly around the neck, lifting on my toes slightly so I can bury my face in his neck, which I know he likes. I feel the tension subside from his shoulders as he melts into me. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” He repeats, pulling back slightly to consider me while keeping his arms wound around my waist.

My cheeks heat. “Sorry. Slipped out.”

His face splits into a beaming smile. “Nope. No ‘sorry’s. I like it. I mean, I’m still partial to Padfoot, but sweetheart is nice, too.”

I let myself smile for a moment, then it fades as I remember what we’re here for. “We should go in. We don’t want to be late.”

He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah, we should. Kiss me first, though?”

“If you’re not worried about someone from your family seeing,” I say.

“Screw my family,” he mumbles before bringing his lips to mine.

I hum into it and start to wind my fingers into his more-styled-than-usual hair when I hear a voice from behind me.

“Sirius?”

I pull away sharply and study Sirius’ face with worry, expecting to find him white as a sheet, but he’s smiling.

“Andi!” He exclaims before extracting himself from my embrace to hug whoever was behind me.

After letting out a breath, I turn to find Sirius hugging a woman several inches shorter than him with black shoulder-length wavy hair and the same severe bone structure as Sirius, meaning she’s probably a cousin. And based on his genuine joy in seeing her, she’s most likely his cousin Andromeda, the only one of his family members that he cares for.

Once Sirius lets her go, he turns and beckons me forward. “Remus, this is my cousin Andromeda—”

“Andi, please,” she interrupts, sticking her hand out for me to shake.

I take it gratefully and smile. “Remus. It’s nice to meet you. Sirius talks about you a lot.”

“All good things, I hope,” she says with a wink. “Wait, Remus. As in—”

“My friend from school, yes,” Sirius finishes.

“And you two…” she gestures between us, waggling her eyebrows in a way that is eerily similar to Sirius.

I glance at Sirius, and he simply smiles and slides his hand into mine. “Yeah,” he says softly but confidently before dragging his eyes to her.

“Brilliant. Does Auntie Burga know?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well, I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine,” she says as she pulls a diamond ring on a chain around her neck out from underneath her black cocktail dress.

Sirius’ eyes widen. “Did Ted—?”

She nods, beaming.

“Congratulations,” I say.

“Thanks.”

“And Aunt Dru—” Sirius continues.

“Doesn’t know,” she confirms. “Ted stayed home so we didn’t steal any attention from Cissy’s day. She’d kill me. Speaking of, we should get inside.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a controlled exhale. I give his hand a quick squeeze, let go, and follow him inside. The moment we enter, a team of hosts—or maitre d’s, I’ve never really been sure of the difference—greet us, one taking our coats to hang up while another takes our names and leads us to our respective seats. Unfortunately, Andi isn’t at our table, and even more unfortunately, we’re seated at a table with Sirius’ parents, although that was to be expected.

“Sirius, you’re late,” Walburga Black says the moment the maitre d’ leaves.

“My apologies, mother. I happened upon Andromeda outside and we got side tracked,” Sirius explains before leaning down to give her a tense kiss on the cheek. “Where’s father?”

“He’s by the bar with Cygnus,” she says, waving a dismissive hand before training her gaze on me, which sends a chill down my spine. But it’s not the piercing nature of her gaze that gets me—although it _is_ unsettling—it’s the similarity of her eyes to Sirius’. They’re the same narrow, almond-shaped, silver eyes I fell in love with years and years ago, minus the warmth and emotion behind them. No, there’s nothing behind these eyes.

“Unless I’m mistaken, Sirius,” she begins while continuing her attempt to stare a hole into my soul, “this is not Marlene.”

“No, this is—”

“Remus Lupin, ma’am,” I say in what I hope is a confident voice. I force myself to hold her gaze while sticking my hand out for her to shake. She doesn’t take it, but I didn’t expect her to. After a long enough moment, I pull my hand back and take a seat.

Sirius sits as well and instantly finds my hand under the table. “Remus is a friend of mine from—”

“Hogwarts, yes. I remember,” she interrupts. “Your father was on staff there, correct?”

“Yes, he was. History professor,” I tell her.

Walburga tuts, then turns her attention back to Sirius. “So, was Marlene suddenly ill and unable to make it? Is this why you brought this… friend of yours?”

“Marlene and I are no longer seeing each other,” he answers.

“Ah, what did you do this time?”

“It wasn’t—I didn’t—”

I can feel him tensing up again, so I squeeze his hand and look at Walburga with as calm an expression as I can muster. “Marlene is a lesbian, so unless you’re going to blame Sirius for not being a woman, then I’d say the breakup is hardly his fault.”

Her gaze narrows on me, and Sirius muffles a laugh under a cough.

“And nor is it Marlene’s. She didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter, either,” I add, then turn to Sirius. “Should we go say hello to the bride?”

He smiles and nods. “Yes, we should. It would be rude of us not to. Please excuse us, mother.” And without another word, he stands up, not bothering to let go of my hand, and pulls me toward a corner by the bar.

“Remus…” he whispers.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t let her walk all over you like that—”

“Don’t apologize. That was brilliant.”

“She’s horrible. I mean, I believed you when you said she was, of course, but—”

“It’s different experiencing it first-hand,” he supplies.

I nod. “Still, I probably made more problems, so I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and lifts his hand to brush my cheek for a moment. “She’s going to be the same amount of awful, whether or not you said anything. But, seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever been more in awe of you—or attracted to you—than I was just then.”

I chuckle and duck my head. “Me standing up to your mother did it for you, huh?”

“Oh, yes. The way you stared her down and made her seem rude for not shaking your hand, the line about Marlene—although, Marlene isn’t actually a lesbian.”

“I know, but bisexual didn’t fit with the point I was trying to make,” I say with a shrug.

“God, you’re brilliant. I love it,” he whispers.

“So, I only said the greeting-the-bride thing to give us an excuse to duck out, but we probably should say hello, right?”

“Probably. But then, we’re getting out of here.”

“So soon? Is that a good idea?” I ask tentatively.

“I don’t care. I’m not even needed here, anyway. I’m not in the wedding party. I’m only expected to make an appearance and say hello to family,” he reasons. “Which we can do, then get out of here.”

Within fifteen minutes, we’re grabbing our coats from the front and sneaking out through the doors. Somehow in the less-than-one-hour we were inside, it dropped several degrees. So I wrap my scarf around my neck a few times and tuck the ends into my zipped coat before shoving my hands in my pockets. Sirius immediately loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button of his shirt, before letting out a long breath.

“Better?” I ask, nudging him with my shoulder.

“Yes. Although, I’m kind of starving,” he says.

“Well, we left before they served dinner,” I point out. “Do you want to go somewhere? There’s that small Italian place by our hotel.”

“Italian food in Paris?”

“Well, we are dressed up already so we could go to some fancy place that serves snails if you prefer.”

He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Ugh, no thank you.” His face softens into a smile. “Italian sounds perfect.”

I smile back. “So, do you want to call a taxi?”

“Let’s walk,” he suggests. “It’s a beautiful night.”

“It’s also cold.”

“Come on, it’ll be romantic. We are in Paris, after all. The City of Love,” he croons.

“Trying to romance me, Padfoot?” I tease.

“Have been for days, Moony. Thank you for finally noticing,” he retorts, holding out his arm to me to take.

I give him a questioning look, but slip my arm through his anyway.

“What is it?” He asks after several minutes of walking in silence.

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re having me on,” I wonder aloud, then instantly flinch at the way it came out.

“What would make you think that?”

“I’m not sure, but these past few days have all been very… different. I guess I’m—I don’t know.” I don’t know what I’m saying or why I’m saying anything, except that I can’t quiet the part of my brain that keeps telling me that none of this is real. But I don’t want confirmation of that, at least not right now. I shake my head. “Never mind. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

He sighs, comes to a stop, and pulls me around so we’re facing each other. “Things have been different between us, but I think it’s been for longer than the past few days. At least, it’s felt that way for me. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Actually, I’d say that it’s a good thing, wouldn’t you?”

“I—Well, yes, but—Sirius, what are you saying?” I stammer.

“I’m saying,” he begins, bringing his hand to palm my neck, “that I’m tired of pretending that I don’t want this—that I don’t want you.”

My breath hitches as I stare dumbly up at him, unable to speak. I’ve wanted to hear this for so long, but now that I’m hearing it, I can’t think of anything to say anything in response except a lame, cringe-worthy, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he whispers as he brings his forehead to rest against mine. “I figured I’d made that increasingly clear over the past month and a half, but apparently not, so I guess I’ll say it: I want you, Rem. I want to hold your hand and kiss you in public—and not just in a country where no one knows us. I want to fall asleep next to you. I want to see where this goes.”

“I—” I start, but my voice comes out croaky and barely above a whisper, so I swallow and try again. “I want that, too.”

“Good,” he says with a hint of a smile, then he kisses me.

It’s chaste at first, just his lips on mine, soft, unhurried, and surprisingly warm for how cold out it is. But there’s something underneath it I’ve never felt before, a depth of feeling that’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. I step closer and melt into him, parting my lips ever so slightly in an invitation that he readily accepts. My hands come to his waist while his other hand comes to cradle the other side of my neck. He angles my head to deepen the kiss, not even caring that we’re in the middle of a footbridge in a crowded foreign city. After several blissful moments, we part, eyes still closed as we catch our breath.

“Should we head back to the room?” he suggests gently.

“What about dinner?” I whisper.

“I can wait.”

My stomach flips in anticipation. “Yeah, alright.”

We step back, and Sirius offers his arm for me again, which I take, wrapping both arms around it and leaning my head on his shoulder as we walk the rest of the way back to our hotel. It’s not a far walk—we’d only taken a taxi to get to the restaurant so we weren’t late—but it takes twice as long as it should because every few minutes Sirius keeps stopping to kiss me. Little pecks on the top of my head, back of my hand, temple, cheek, or anywhere else he can reach, really. We’re just getting off the elevator on our hotel floor when he stops and pulls me aside to kiss me for what must be the fifteenth time since the bridge, this time more deeply.

I pull away quickly, smiling. “Sirius, our room is right there, if you just wait—”

“Sorry, can’t help it,” he says between kisses to my cheeks and jaw. “It’s not my fault you’re so handsome in a tie.”

“So are you, but you don’t see me stopping every ten feet to kiss you,” I fire back gently as I tilt my head back to give him better access to my neck.

“Do you want me to stop?”

I hum contentedly. “No, but we should pause until we get inside.”

“Yeah, alright,” he says, giving me one last kiss before grabbing my hand.

I stumble after him, laughing as he tugs me down the hallway to our room.

He grins, opens the door, and pushes me against it to close it. “I love your laugh,” he murmurs against my cheek.

I chuckle again, unable to help myself. “Do you want to get the light so we can see to take our coats off?”

He nods and steps away to fumble with the lamp on the desk a little further into the room.

The light fills the entryway with a soft light, and we tuck our coats and shoes into the closet. Then Sirius pulls me close by my cardigan, which I’d worn so I could save my only suit coat for tomorrow. One hand presses into the small of my back while the other comes up to caress my cheek, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone. With a soft smile, I wind my arms around his neck and lean up to kiss him.

I quickly lose myself in the brush of our lips, the tangling of our tongues, our hands exploring every clothed muscle. We stumble back onto the bed, not wanting to detach our lips long enough to maneuver with more grace. We kiss for a long time, unhurried and gently, only breaking apart to add articles of clothing to a pile on the floor.

I drop my boxers to the floor, the last layer of cloth between us, then stare up at him braced above me. “Is everything alright?” I ask, taking in an expression I can’t quite place.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, then rolls our hips together, finally with nothing between us.

*** * ***

I stop just short of the doors that lead from the coat check to the event hall where the wedding ceremony is being held and step off to the side, dragging Sirius along with me. “Are you sure I look alright?”

“Yes. You look fine, Moons,” Sirius answers for the third time since leaving the hotel.

I tug at my jacket sleeves and shift my weight. “I feel underdressed,” I say, watching men wearing suits worth over three months of my salary walk by.

“Hey, look at me.” Sirius uses a pointer finger to tilt my face so I’m looking at him. He glances around, then uses my tie to bring our mouths close for a quick kiss. “You aren’t underdressed, and you are easily going to be the most attractive person in that room,” he straightens my tie affectionately, “present company included.”

“Sirius—”

“Yes, I am,” he teases.

“No, I mean—” I try to warn him that his mother is behind him, but she cuts me off.

“Sirius, what are you doing out here?” Walburga asks through clenched teeth.

Sirius’ posture changes in an instant. His shoulders stiffen and he drops his hand from my tie before whipping around. “Mother. You look lovely,” he says in an overly formal tone, stepping closer to kiss her in greeting.

“Thank you,” she says, then drops her voice to a whisper, “just get inside, take a seat, and for the love of God, don’t embarrass me.” She turns on her stiletto-clad heel and stalks off toward the event hall.

“I’m sorry,” I start, “I tried to warn you but she came out of nowhere—”

He shakes his head and forces his shoulders to relax before turning back to me. “It’s okay. Shall we?” He asks, extending his hand to me.

I stare at it for a moment, then shake my head to clear it. “Yeah, let’s get a seat in the back, huh?” I suggest, walking past him without taking his hand.

He drops his hand back to his side and smiles, although it looks a little forced. “Yeah, definitely the back.”

We take a seat in the back row farthest from the aisle, and I look around the crowded room at the close to five hundred guests. “Wow, this is a lot of people,” I whisper.

“And I’m only related to a quarter of them. I think it’s mostly business contacts, seeing as this wedding is more for business reasons than it is for love,” he whispers back.

“Narcissa and Lucius don’t even love each other?” I ask, just as the string quartet in the corner plays louder, cueing the start of the ceremony.

The crowd turns to watch the wedding party slowly process in one by one, but Sirius keeps his gaze on me. “No, I think they do, which is really lucky for them seeing as they probably would have had to get married regardless,” he says matter-of-factly. “Unlike cousin Bella, who only tolerates her husband.”

“Is that why Andi is keeping her and Ted a secret?” I ask, leaning over to whisper closer to his ear in case of eavesdroppers.

He nods. “I think she’s planning on giving the family a big ol’ ‘fuck you’, but wanted to wait until after Cissy’s wedding.”

“I can’t even imagine. I mean, arranged marriages? People should marry for love, not business. You’re not royalty.”

He stifles a laugh. “Don’t say that to my mother.”

The band switches seamlessly into the wedding march, and the guests all stand and face the aisle for the bride to walk in.

“I agree though,” he continues. “Unfortunately, my family doesn’t really see it that way.”

I frown as Narcissa walks down the aisle. She does at least look happy, and so does Lucius as he watches her be escorted toward him. But that doesn’t negate them not having much choice in this arrangement. Or that this could easily be Sirius standing up there one day because his parents forced a similar deal on him.

Once the minister tells us to sit, Sirius looks at me and flashes a sad half smile. “Alright?”

I take a breath and let it out. “Yeah, sorry,” I apologize. I’m supposed to be distracting him from his family, not brooding about how awful they are. “Let’s just try to have fun, huh?” I suggest.

He nods and flips his hand palm up on the seats between us. I smile and slip my hand into his, lacing our fingers together. The ceremony is blissfully short, and within thirty minutes we’re being corralled into the adjacent ballroom for dinner.

“At least we’re not seated with your parents,” I muse as I look down at the seat next to Sirius’ and notice Marlene’s name on the place card.

He winces and snatches it up. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t want to give anyone a heads-up that my date had changed because I didn’t want them to tell me you couldn’t come,” he says in a rush.

I smile, take a seat, and pull him down to sit next to me. “It’s okay, Pads,” I assure him, resting a hand on his thigh under the table out of sight. “I understand. Besides, even if you had, Narcissa probably wouldn’t have had time to change the place cards, anyway.”

Dinner is plated, served by servers in black tie, and filled with mind-numbing conversation with Sirius’ distant cousins who also hadn’t made the cut to be at one of the tables reserved for people in the wedding party. Once dinner is over, it’s time for the series of first dances, all to classic instrumental pieces played by the same string quartet from the ceremony, then the floor is opened for dancing.

Sirius grabs my hand and whispers in my ear, “Come on.”

“You aren’t suggesting we dance together in front of your entire family?” I whisper back in shock.

“No, just follow me,” he says with a glint in his eyes.

I sigh, but follow him out a seat of French doors that apparently lead to a balcony overlooking the city. In the distance, I can see the lights from the Eiffel Tower casting a warm glow over the rest of the skyline. “It’s gorgeous,” I say, leaning against the railing to take it all in.

He presses himself along my back and rests his hand on my waist. “It is,” he hums in agreement. He turns me around to face him and holds out his left hand. “Shall we?”

I cock my head and look up at him. “You’re asking me to dance out here?”

“It’s a wedding, of course I’m asking you to dance.”

With a chuckle, I press my palm against his and bring my left arm up to rest on his shoulder. “I hope you know I’m no good at this,” I warn.

“Well, I took way too many years of dance lessons, so I am. But, you don’t need to be a good dancer to clutch and sway,” he points out as he starts to lead us in a swaying movement side to side, only partially in time to the music filtering out through the crack in the door.


	6. Chapter 6

I’m not sure how long we’re dancing for—I can’t quite tell when one song shifts into another because, honestly, all classical music sounds the same to me—and I’m getting a little cold, but I can’t be bothered enough to care. This moment is too perfect, with the city lights, the soft music, and Sirius holding me close.

I shift my hand to the back of his neck so I can rest my head on his shoulder. “This is nice,” I whisper.

“Yeah, it is,” he whispers back. He presses a kiss to my hairline. “Hey, Rem?”

I lift my head and frown slightly, taking in his slightly worried expression. “What is it, sweetheart?” I let my fingers twist into the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck.

He lets out a shaky exhale and smiles. “Nothing. Well, nothing bad anyway. Just—”

He’s interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind us. We turn to see Andi standing in the open doorway, a shawl clutched around her bare arms to give her some protection from the cold.

“Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds, but they’re about to cut the cake,” she says, gesturing toward the door.

“Thanks, Andi,” Sirius says, and she steps back inside. He lets go of my waist but keeps a hold on my hand. “Let’s go in. My mother would kill me if she knew I’d been out here this whole time.”

He heads back inside, but I pull him back with our still clasped hands. “Wait—you were going to say something,” I remind him.

“Oh,” he says, and an expression I can’t quite interpret passes over his face. “It can wait until we get back to the hotel. Maybe we can head out a little early and take another walk back?”

“Sure—but are you sure you’re okay?” I step close and bring a hand up to caress his cheek. “You seem worried about something.”

“I’m fine. You’re here.” He turns his head to press a lingering kiss to my palm, then steps away with a smile. “Come on, there’s cake, and I’m pretty sure I saw chocolate icing.” He waggles his eyebrows and pulls me to the door, and I follow, laughing.

He was right. There is indeed chocolate icing, and a chocolate filling as well, as I learn when a server came by to serve slices of the cake and coffee. I dig into my slice, which is surprisingly delicious for wedding cake, seeing as they’re often dry and have way too much fondant.

“So, how much longer do you think we’re going to need to stay, so as to not piss off your mother more than she already is?” I ask in between bites.

He sets his fork down and pulls out his phone to check the time. “Probably only another half an hour. Three hours at a wedding is enough time, right?”

“I’d say so. They’ve done all the important stuff already. At normal weddings, all that would be left is dancing, but there’s only so much one can do to a string quartet,” I say with a shrug.

He laughs suddenly, earning a questioning glance from an older woman at the table next to us. He flashes a sheepish grin at her, then turns back to me, his smile softening.

“What?”

“You’ve got a little—” He gestures at my mouth, and I reach up to wipe at it with a napkin, but he beats me to it, leaning over to swipe the chocolate icing off my top lip with his thumb. “Got it,” he says, letting his hand linger on my face for a moment.

“Sirius!” A shrill voice rings out from behind me, making us both jump.

“Mother, hello,” Sirius blurts. “Have you had any cake yet? It’s quite good.”

“Why yes, I have,” Walburga says through a tight smile. “I must get with Narcissa about the bakery they went with.”

“Planning an event, mother?” He asks.

“Yes, I believe we will be,” she says, putting emphasis on the ‘we.’ She turns to me and flashes an unnerving smile. “Remus, I hope you’re having a pleasant time.”

“I am, thank you, ma’am,” I say skeptically, shooting a questioning glance at Sirius out of the corner of my eye. I see him shrug and shake his head.

“If you do not mind, I would like to borrow my darling son for a moment. There is an important family matter that we have to discuss,” she says in a painfully polite tone.

I glance at Sirius again for guidance.

He straightens and looks her squarely in the eye. “Anything you have to discuss with me, you can do so in front of Remus. I’m going to tell him, anyway.”

Her eyes flash in anger, but the polite, more-grimace-than-smile remains. “As you wish. There is someone that I need to introduce you to, and it will be best if your… date stays where he is. It wouldn’t send the best message to your fiancée for you to have someone else on your arm when you meet her for the first time.”

Sirius stares blankly at her. “My what?”

“Your fiancée,” she repeats.

My heart stops.

“I believe I would remember if I had proposed to someone,” Sirius says, trying to keep his voice even.

“Well, you will have to in order to make things official, but the arrangements have all been made,” she explains. Her face splits into her first genuine smile, and if her fake smile was unnerving, this one is downright horrifying. “She comes from a proper family, a business partner of your father…”

The next words out of her mouth sound muffled as I stare blankly at Sirius.

No.

No, no, no, this can’t be happening. I finally got a glimpse of what it would be like to be with him. This can’t—no. Please, no.

I watch as he stares silently at her, silently begging him to say something—anything.

“Mother, be reasonable, I can’t marry someone that I’ve never even met,” Sirius says finally.

“You can, and you will,” she orders. “We need her family’s support.”

“Marry her off to Reg then!” He exclaims, standing to tower over her. “He would happily do anything you say.”

“Regulus isn’t the one embarrassing this family by running around town with some no-name fling,” she spits. She grabs the lapel of his suit jacket and pulls him down to speak into his ear. “You are the heir to this family and it is time you acted accordingly. Now, stop making a scene and come meet Emmeline.” She turns on her heel and stalks off, leaving Sirius standing there, gaping after her.

Somehow, I stand, and I head toward the exit, but a hand on my arm stops me.

“Remus, please, wait.”

“Sirius—”

“Don’t leave, please,” he begs, reaching for my hands, which I let him take in his. “I’ve got to go try to deal with this, but please, just—just stay right here and we can figure this out.”

“What is there to figure out? Your family has made it pretty clear what they expect of you,” I mumble. “But it’s okay,”— _It’s not_ — “I understand.”— _I don’t_ — “It’s family.”— _And they’re awful._

“You don’t think—I won’t go through with it.”

I sigh and stare at our clasped hands. “Yes, you are. I know you, Sirius. You’re going to go through with it for the same reason you kept going back to Marlene for three years, even though she brought the worst out in you.” I look up and my breath catches. His eyes are shining and he takes a step closer, forcing me to crane my neck to keep his gaze. With a shaky breath, I continue, “You care so fiercely and so indiscriminately. You’re loyal, even to people who don’t deserve it—to people who don’t deserve you.”

_And unfortunately, I don’t think I make that cut, even though I’d treat you better than the rest of them._

“Moony, please—”

Without another word, I carefully extract my hands from his, turn on my heel and leave.

Getting back to the hotel is a blur. I only vaguely remember getting my coat and ordering a taxi with my phone so I wouldn’t have to walk back by myself. The car pulls up in front of the hotel, and I hand the driver a handful of Euros. I don’t even bother waiting for change before getting out. The moment I’m back in the room, I toss my coat on the desk chair, call Lily, and put it on speaker so I can multitask.

“Remus? Is everything alright? Aren’t you supposed to be at the wedding?” Lily’s voice rings out through the speaker.

“Can I crash at your place?” I ask as I pull up the website for the Eurostar. I balk at the price for the last minute ticket, but add it to the cart, anyway. I can’t stay here tonight knowing that Sirius is getting engaged to someone else at this very moment.

“What?”

I pay for the ticket with the saved credit card information on my phone. “I’m getting a train back tonight. It leaves in an hour and a half, and I realize it’ll be late when it gets in, but do you think I could crash—”

“No, not until you tell me what the hell happened,” she interjects.

With a shaky breath, I sit on the bed. “Sirius is getting engaged.”

Over the next fifteen minutes, I tell her everything, packing while I do so. I zip my bag, right as I finish my story. “The worst part is, I had a feeling that this was all too good to be true, but I didn’t think I would be proved right so quickly. I’m so stupid.”

“Remus, you aren’t stupid. Maybe he will get out of it,” Lily suggests hopefully.

“Lily, you’ve known him as long as I have, and I know you weren’t that close for the first few years, but have you ever known him to stand up to his family?” I ask pointedly.

“No, but this is different.”

“How?”

“First, getting married because it will make your parents happy differs completely from getting a second degree in business to make them happy,” she reasons. “And second, this would take him away from you, and he would fight like hell before he lets that happen.”

“You don’t know that,” I retort.

“Yes, I do, Remus!” She exclaims. “That boy loves you. And do you know how I know? Because from everything you said, it sounds like he was equally in this as you were.”

The door slams open and I scramble to take the phone off speaker. “I have to go, Lils. Can you still pick me up?”

“Is that Sirius?” she asks in a rush.

“Lily—”

“Yeah, I can pick you up, but Rem—”

I hang up the phone just as Sirius comes storming toward me.

“Are you leaving?” He asks.

“My train leaves in an hour,” I tell him. I brush past him to grab my coat.

“No, wait, please, Remus—” he grabs my hand, forcing me to turn around.

I collide with his chest, and I reach a hand out to steady myself. “Sirius—” I say in warning.

His other hand goes to cup my face and dips down to close the distance between us, but stops just shy of kissing me, like he’s giving me a chance to say no first, and for a moment, I give in. For a moment, I let him kiss me. I let myself pretend that nothing is wrong‚ that everything is perfect like it was on the balcony barely two hours ago.

But then I come to my senses and realize that everything is the opposite of perfect. “I need to go. I called a car and it should be here soon,” I mumble before pushing him away.

“Why are you leaving?” He asks.

“You’re engaged.”

He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m not, though. I didn’t even meet her—”

“Did you tell your mother you wouldn’t go through with it?” I ask, mildly hopeful.

“No, I found Andi and got her to cover for me so I could find you, but—”

“You still will be engaged, though.”

“No, I won’t,” he insists. “At least not any time soon and definitely not to her.”

“But at some point you will be, if not to her, then to someone else, and I just can’t—I can’t do this anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This!” I shout. “The secret hooking up because we’re both bored, or lonely, or upset. I don’t want that—I’ve never wanted that, and I can’t keep doing this to myself. It’s killing me, Sirius.” I grab my coat and slip it on.

“Keep doing what? Moons, I don’t understand—” he reaches for me again but I side-step him.

“I’ve gotten my hopes up too many times that things might finally work out. But I can’t keep putting my life on hold for you, staying single just so I’m available for you to keep running back to me and desperately hoping that someday you might want me for more than a distraction or as an emotional crutch.”

“Is that what you think this is?” Now he’s shouting.

“You’ve never given me any indication that you thought otherwise!”

“What about last night? Do you think I was just making that up?”

“No, but ‘wanting to see where things go’ is hardly a love confession, Sirius!”

He deflates and his voice drops to barely above a whisper. “Do you love me?”

“That’s not—” I check my phone for the time. “I have to go. I can’t—”

“Re, I thought last night meant that things were finally going to be different between us—that there would finally be an ‘us.’ And I want that because you’re my best friend and I lo—”

My breath hitches and I shake my head. “Don’t—don’t say whatever you’re about to say, because I don’t think you mean that in how I want you to mean it.” I brush past him to grab my bag, then again to head toward the door.

A tug on my sleeve stops me.

I turn back to see him staring at me with glassy eyes, now looking more stormy grey than his normal brilliant silver. “I can’t. I’m sorry. Go back to the wedding, Sirius. Be with your family.”

“Remus, please,” Sirius whispers. “Just give me a chance to sort things out—”

“Bye, Padfoot.” I pull my arm out of his grasp and walk through the door.

*** * ***

I wake up on the floor of Lily and James’ office with a crick in my neck, the air mattress having lost a lot of its air during the night. With a groan, I turn over and grope for my phone to check the time. Seven am. Too early to be awake, and it means I’ve only gotten about five hours of fitful sleep, but there’s no way I’m getting back to sleep now. I had a hard enough time falling asleep last night. My brain tortured me by replaying my fight with Sirius repeatedly. It still is playing on a loop. I need to get out of my head, otherwise I’m going to go crazy.

I could go for a run. Running has always cleared my head before, but I don’t have my running shoes. My converse would do in a pinch—they don’t offer the best support, but it’s not like I’ve never run in them before—but I don’t have any running clothes, and I refuse to go for a run in my skinny jeans. I could borrow something from James, but I’m not sure if Lily and James are up right now. And if they are, they’ll probably want to talk about what happened. I’d been able to avoid the conversation last night since by the time the train got in, it was close to eleven, meaning Lily and I didn’t get back to the house until nearly 11:45 pm. But now, they’d be no avoiding it. I’d have to tell James that his two best friends have been sneaking around behind his back for the past six years, that I went and fell in love with him, and that now our dynamic has completely…

Oh god, what if it’s beyond repair?

I don’t know if I can handle that. Not having Sirius in my life at all would be much worse than never getting to be with him in the way I so desperately want to be. If our arrangement had ended more amicably, we could have salvaged our friendship, but it didn’t. No, it ended with us screaming at each other, then him nearly crying as he begged me to stay. I almost had, too, but it would have been a mistake. I couldn’t think straight—I still can’t think straight. Especially since Sirius texted or tried to call me no less than fifteen times between the time I got off the train in London and got out to the car at Lily’s. I eventually just turned my phone on airplane mode to prevent the incessant buzzing.

I wonder if it’s safe to turn it off now? For a few moments, nothing happens and I wonder if Sirius got the message I’m not ready to talk, but then it buzzes in my hand with at least fifteen more texts and a voicemail. I don’t read them, nor do I read the ones from before. I can’t.

With a groan, I get up and rifle through my overnight bag to change. I’m just slipping on my jeans when there’s a soft knock at the door. “Come in,” I call.

James pokes his head in, his hair looking as wild as it always does in the morning. “Morning, Rem. I heard you moving around in here, so I figured you were up. Sorry I missed you coming in last night. I was exhausted after rugby practice—did Lily give you that of mine to sleep in?” He asks, gesturing at my t-shirt.

I look down at my shirt, which is just slightly too big for me and says ‘Gryffindor Rugby’ on it, and blush. “Oh, no, I think it’s Sirius’. It must have gotten mixed in with my laundry,” I say, not wanting to explain that it’s one of my many t-shirts that are actually Sirius’ that I’ve just stolen when they shrink a bit in the wash. Nor do I want to explain that I slept in it last night because it was the first night in several weeks I didn’t sleep next to Sirius, and even though I’m the one that left, I missed him.

God, I’m pathetic.

I strip off my t-shirt, not bothering with modesty seeing as I lived with him for nearly seven years, and pull on a random, non-Sirius t-shirt from my bag.

“Speaking of Sirius,” James begins carefully, “do you want to tell me what happened in Paris?”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” I plead. “At least not until I’m more awake.”

“Sure. We put on a pot of tea, and Lily is downstairs making pancakes.”

“Oh, I’ve missed Lily’s pancakes,” I sigh. “I can’t quite get them right.”

“They’re a thing of magic.” He chuckles, but there’s still worry in his eyes. 

I follow him downstairs and to their kitchen, which has an eat-in breakfast nook. James takes a seat at the square table while I beeline for the kettle on the stove.

“Morning,” Lily calls over her shoulder. She flips a pancake, then turns away from the pan to look at me. “How did you sleep?”

“Alright,” I say. “Mugs?”

“Left cabinet.”

“Thanks. And thanks for picking me up last night. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s not a problem. You know I’d do anything for you,” she says earnestly. “I just wish I knew why it was necessary. Rem, what really happened?”

“It’s—” I look between her and James, who are wearing twin expressions of concern. I let out a long exhale. “Look, James, there’s something you have to tell you—”

“I already know, Remus,” he admits. “And before you ask, no Lily didn’t tell me.”

“Did Sirius—”

“He didn’t have to. I’ve known since Sixth Form.”

“Wh—you—how?” I splutter.

“Sirius was terrible at sneaking out of and back into our room, and if he’d been sneaking off to see a girl, he would have told me about it,” James explained.

I sigh, walk over to the table, and sink into a chair across from him. “And you said nothing?”

“I didn’t want to out one of my best friends before he was ready. Especially with his family—”

“You don’t have to explain about his family to me,” I interrupt bitterly.

“Right,” James says. “But even if he had been sneakier, it wouldn’t have been hard to figure out you’re in love with each other.”

“We’re not—”

“Oh, come off it, Remus,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s obvious how you two feel about each other. You have nicknames for each other that no one else uses—”

“Okay, speaking of, why do you call him Padfoot?” Lily asks, earning a look from James for interrupting. She sets down a plate full of pancakes in the center of the table with a shrug. “I get why you’re Moony—your birthmark and the fact that your name is basically ‘Wolf Wolf’—but where did Padfoot come from?”

A small smile forms on my face before I can stop it. “Oh, well, he’d been calling me Moony since First Form, and I’d spent forever trying to find a suitably ridiculous thing to call him. I tried a few different things, but nothing really stuck until Fifth Form when one day, he hadn’t done his maths homework. Slughorn was going to give him detention since it was the third time that week, so, Sirius tried to convince him that a dog ate his homework—”

“We were at a boarding school,” Lily points out.

“Right, so he tried to make up this elaborate story about a stray, which obviously didn’t work, and he ended up in detention, anyway. We mocked him for at least a week, calling him dog names and what not, and eventually Padfoot just stuck—James, you remember.”

“Yeah, I do,” he says in an odd way. “Except I never call him Padfoot, nor do I call you Moony. That has always been something between the two of you. That’s my point. There has always been something between the two of you I’ve never understood or had with either of you. You’re with each other all the time, you literally have your own language—”

“French is an entire country’s worth of people’s language, not just ours,” I object.

“Yes, but you use it like it’s some secret code. You look at each other the same way I look at Lily when you think the other isn’t looking, your face lit up in a way I’ve never seen when you talk about anyone else. You love him.”

“Alright, yes. I love him,” I admit. “I love him, and I have since before we even started—whatever it is we were—but that doesn’t mean he feels the same way. Otherwise, why would he keep going back to Marlene? He sought me out because I was safe and convenient.”

“Remus…” Lily says, reaching her hand out to rest on my arm.

“You’re really bloody thick, you know that?” James says hotly.

“James—”

“Did you know Sirius called me this morning?” He continues, ignoring Lily’s warning. “He called me at six in the morning, out of his mind because he hadn’t slept all night, worried because you weren’t answering your phone. And do you know why? Because he misses you, Remus. Because he _loves_ you.”

“Did he say that?” I ask, doing my best to keep the hope out of my voice.

“No, but he didn’t have to,” James says, his voice softening.

“That means nothing, James,” I say, exasperated. “And I can’t go getting my hopes up again because you think you know how Sirius feels. Alright, yes, things got a little blurry in Paris. But then his parents sprung the engagement on him, and I know he won’t sacrifice his entire family and inheritance for a friend he occasionally likes to shag.” I shove my hands into my hair, a tick I must have picked up from Sirius over the years. “I just need time, then I’ll be fine and everything will go back to normal. I just can’t talk about this anymore, alright?”

James opens his mouth to protest, but Lily gives him a look to shut up.

“Of course, Rem,” she says, squeezing my arm.

“I don’t want to be an imposition, but—”

“Yes, you can stay here for a few days,” Lily finishes for me.

I smile gratefully at her. “Thank you.”


	7. Chapter 7

It’s been four days since I left Paris, three days since I last heard from Sirius, and nearly a week since I was last in my flat. Thankfully, I tend to over-pack when I go somewhere, so I’ve had enough clean pants and socks to last me until today, but I’m at the point where I either need to do laundry or just go home. I know Lily and James would let me do laundry at their place if I asked. They’ve been so generous over the past few days by letting me crash with them, and they’re even taking me to an art gallery opening tonight to take my mind off things. But I also know I have to go home, eventually. I need to be an adult and face my feelings. And while I’m not sure if I have the strength to go back home and face Sirius again, I have little choice. There’s only so long I can continue to sleep on an air mattress on the floor of the study. I miss my bed. I miss not sleeping on the floor. I miss Sirius, even though I’m trying hard not to.

The bell on the door of Minnie’s gallery rings, and I look up to see Lily walking in, James trailing behind her. “Hey, Rem, are you ready to get going?”

“Yeah,” I say, getting up and walking around the front desk. “Let me just let Minnie know that I’m leaving.”

They nod, and I head toward the back room to get my coat. On the way back, I stop in Minnie’s office. “Hey, is it alright if I head out a few minutes early?”

Minnie glances up from her paperwork and looks at me over her glasses. “Of course, I’m nearly done here, anyway. Are you heading anywhere fun?”

“Gallery opening over on Carnaby Street,” I reply.

“Carnaby Street? I wasn’t aware that the gallery there had a new owner.”

“Really?” I ask, furrowing my brow. Come to think of it, neither was I. Yes, London may be a big city so it would be impossible for Minnie to have contacts at every gallery, but the one on Carnaby is so close—

“Ah, well, I could be mistaken,” she says airily before waving a dismissive hand. “Have a good time, dear.”

“Thanks, Min,” I say slowly, suddenly suspicious of where Lily and James are taking me. I head out to the main entrance, patting Isobel on the head as I go.

“Ready?” James asks.

“Yeah. Hey, question: you said the gallery was the one on Carnaby, right?” I ask.

“Yeah, why?” Lily asks as we head out the doors and start walking to the gallery, which is only a few blocks away.

“It’s just that Minnie said she hadn’t heard of the gallery being bought recently.”

Lily and James share a covert look that I can’t quite read before James responds, saying, “I think it’s a photography gallery. Minnie doesn’t really have many contacts in the photography world, right?”

“No, she doesn’t.” Photography. Great. It’s bad enough that I can’t seem to get Sirius out of my head while I’m sleeping, or while I’m at work, but now the one thing meant to take my mind off of him before having to face him is just going to be a massive reminder of him. Maybe that was Lily’s plan when she suggested this. I’ve avoided any further conversation about Sirius for the past few days, but that wasn’t for lack of trying on Lily or James’ part. I know they mean well, but they just don’t understand that it’s not possible for Sirius and me to be together.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention that it was a photography exhibit,” Lily says as we turn down Carnaby Street.

“Yeah, sorry, mate,” James adds. “But we knew that you might not want to come if you knew, and it was important—we thought it would be good for you if you saw the exhibit.”

I go to ask him what he means by that, but as we approach the gallery, I notice that it doesn’t look open. “Lily, James, what is going on? Did you get the date wrong?”

“No, we didn’t get the date wrong,” Lily says.

“Is there even an exhibit?”

“Yes, there is. It’s a private exhibition, though, so we won’t be joining you,” James says, wrapping his arm around Lily’s shoulder.

“What—?”

Oh, no. This was a set up. I knew it was odd that Lily hadn’t badgered me to talk to Sirius this morning on our way into the city. I hoped that she’d finally given up, but no. She knew what was going to happen. She knew that she was going to lure me here and try to get me to talk to Sirius, who was probably waiting on the other side of this door.

Lily smiles knowingly. “Just go in, Rem. It’s something you really need to see.” She reaches out to squeeze my hand, then nods encouragingly.

I take a deep breath and shakily let it out before turning to open the door with a wavering hand, bracing myself for Sirius to be standing there. However, I’m greeted by silence and a mostly dark room. The only light comes from strategically placed LED candles on the concrete floor that seem to line a path that disappears behind a drop cloth that covers my view of the rest of the gallery. Did he set that up or was it already here?

Holding my breath, I follow the candles. I turn one I pass the first drop cloth and realize that there are several more all hanging from the ceiling to create a maze of sorts. The entire path is lined with the same LED candles along the floor, illuminating the canvas drop cloths. Confused but curious, I continue along the winding path. Sirius must have set all of this up, but I still don’t see the so called photography exhibit—

“Oh,” I say aloud, despite no one being around. I stop in my tracks as I turn the next corner and am greeted by a photograph pinned to the cloth. I’ve seen it before—it’s on my parent’s fireplace hearth at home. It was taken by Mam on move-in day. I’m sitting on my bed in my new Hogwarts uniform, and off to the side Sirius is poking his head into the frame, a goofy smile on his face. That was the day he declared that he and I would be best friends. He saw my collection of vintage CDs—most of which I’d stolen from Da—and decided that we would get along spectacularly.

Peaking around the next corner, I realize that there’s a photo every few feet. Oh. Oh God, I’m not prepared for this.

I press on, strolling past photographs chronicling our years at school together. I’ve seen them all before, seeing as they were taken by one of our parents or with some of them, cut out of the school yearbook and newspaper and blown up to a size that made them grainy, but still recognizable. But that’s not what’s remarkable about them. It’s the ones he picked.

Some of them are from big events—move-in day, the Christmas holiday in Second Form we spent at James’ house because both of our parents were on holiday out of the country, the school dance in Third Form where I was too embarrassed to dance. so Sirius sat with me the entire night—but a lot of them are unremarkable. Just random images that James, who was the first of us to get a cell phone with a camera, had deemed important to capture. I walk past images of Sirius and me sitting up on a high wall on the Hogwarts grounds and pretending like we’re cool, Sirius and me attempting to study in the library but getting ultimately distracted by candy, Lily and me sitting by the Black Lake in Fourth Form with Sirius sneaking up on the two of us to scare us.

After a photo of Sirius, James, and me wearing matching party hats for what had to be Sirius’ sixteenth birthday, the photos get larger and of a better quality, clearly taken with a better camera. Right, that was when Sirius got his first camera from his Uncle Alphard. I continue past more photos I’ve seen before, including one of me at a track and field meet, sitting on the bench because I’d twisted my ankle and couldn’t compete, until I reach the biggest print of them so far. I’ve never seen it before, but I remember when it was taken. It’s from the party that night in Sixth Form.

The night this whole thing started between us.

And after that is when the photos change. These are black and white and softer, with a shallower depth of field that puts focus on the subject, not the background. And the subject of all of them is me. They’re not the style I recognize as Sirius’ signature. Not only that, but I don’t recognize a single one.

I can catch some moments I remember, but a large portion of them, I can’t even pinpoint when they were taken. There're photos of me laughing at something Lily said, or hunched over a book in the library chewing on a pen, one of me bundled in so many blankets that only my face is poking out—which might be from when I got my appendix removed and Sirius took care of me, but I can’t tell exactly. As I continue, I recognize the location of some pictures as our flat, which means I must be close to the end. I turn another cloth corner to see photos from Paris—a photo of me on the top of the Eiffel Tower looking out on the city, several of me sorting through books at used bookshops, one of me sipping on a cup of tea.

My breath hitches as I pass the photo of the two of us in front of the “Kiss Here” sign, followed by one in front of the Louvre in which I’m laughing as he kisses my cheek. And then I reach what must be the one of the last photos, because it’s from the morning of the wedding and that was the last day I saw him. I’m cocooned in the hotel duvet cover, still half sleeping. The only reason I remember it is because I woke up seconds after he took it and—I continue on, and sure enough, the next photo is of me shoving my hand in the camera's way. I let out a wet laugh into my hands, remembering the way Sirius laughed when I called him creepy and argued that I was “too beautiful not to take a photo of.”

I take another deep breath and turn the last corner, expecting the maze to be at its end, but there’s one last photo. The biggest print of them all, framed and hanging on the back wall next to a door that presumably leads to the back offices. I have no idea how he got it—actually, it was probably Andi thinking about it. We’re standing on the balcony at the wedding, pressed together in a dance hold, my head on his shoulder with the city lights behind us. We seem like we’re in love.

And perhaps we are.

That night Sirius had wanted to tell me something. He was about to tell me something on the balcony, but then we got in that fight and—God, he tried to say something before I left, too, but I was too caught up—too stubborn. But it’s kind of undeniable now, isn’t it? I mean, who sets up a maze with close to one hundred photos of their eleven year history together if they don’t… I stare at the photo again, this time noticing a note taped to the frame, pointing toward the door. With a shaky exhale, I turn the knob and step through the door.

The room is more put together than the gallery hall is and has a similar set up to Minnie’s office at her gallery. Like the maze, the room is lit with dozens of candles, but these are real and fill the room with the comforting scent of vanilla. In the corner is a table set with a bottle of wine and several containers of takeout from my favorite Italian place. And in the center of the room is Sirius, sitting on top of the desk with his legs criss-crossed beneath him.

He slowly uncrosses his legs, lowers his feet to the floor, and stands, staring at me with the softest smile all the while. “Moony,” he breathes.

“You set all of this up for me,” I whisper dumbly, because obviously this was all for me, I’m just not sure what else to say.

“You didn’t believe me when I said I wanted to be with you for real. You wouldn’t let me tell you how I felt about you, so I thought I would show you,” he says.

My breath hitches and I can feel tears starting to well up in my eyes. I clap my hand over my mouth to prevent a sob from escaping, then try to take a deep breath to steady my nerves because I can not start crying right now.

“Oh, love—” He takes a few steps toward me and holds out his arms.

I want to close the rest of the distance between us. There’s nothing more that I want than to rush into his arms and have him never let go, but the courage I had that propelled me through the photo maze and that compelled me to walk through the door is now gone. I’m rooted on the spot, overwhelmed.

His face crumbles, and he takes another step toward me, holding his arms out again. “Moons, come here? Please?” His voice breaks, and I nearly break along with it. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable before, and that must be the only thing that snaps me out of my frozen state.

I let out a soft exhale and somehow manage to walk forward to step into his arms, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“God, I missed you,” he murmurs as he wraps his arms tightly around me.

His hand comes to cradle the back of my head, and I bury my face in his neck with a sigh. “I missed you, too,” I admit.

“I missed you so much,” he continues, his words muffled by my hair. “I’ve been a mess without you, and I don’t even care if that makes me sound pathetic, because it’s true. You’re everything to me. You always have been, and you always will be.” He pulls back enough to look at me and his hand moves to cradle my face, angling it up to meet his intense gaze.

“The pictures—”

“Do you like them?” he asks, the nervous energy clear in his voice.

“They’re gorgeous. I’ve never seen—they’re so different from your normal work,” I choke out.

“I told you you were my muse,” he says playfully, but there’s also so much sincerity there.

“But they go back to when we were sixteen,” I protest.

“You have been since then.”

I shake my head, unable to process what he’s saying. He can’t—no. There’s no way—

“Why didn’t you ever show them to me before?”

“I was scared. That first night, after the party, when I snuck into your room—God, I wanted you so bad, but I didn’t really know why. I thought I just needed to get whatever it was out of my system. But then it kept going and—” he breaks off with a huff, and I can tell he wants to shove a hand through his hair, but his hand doesn’t leave my face. “I was so completely in love with you—had been since before we started, honestly, I just hadn’t realized it at the time—and I was so convinced that there was no way that someone like you would ever want me that way. So, I stuffed it down and tried to be content that you wanted me in at least some way, even if it was just physical. I started carrying on with Marlene, but I never was really in it, because all I ever wanted was to go back to you. Always you.

“Then Marlene broke up with me, and do you know what she said to me when she told me about Dorcas? She looked me straight in the face and told me she felt the same was about her as I do about you. And fuck, that terrified me, because I thought I hid it so well. And if she knew, then maybe you did, too. But if you did, then why would you have continued to shag me all those years and why would you have agreed to move in with me? Unless maybe you felt something, too. So, I thought I’d test the waters.”

“Is that—I thought I was imagining—” I breathe. When he shakes his head, a watery, relieved laugh escapes my lips.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a half smile as he continues, “And I didn’t think it was even possible, but I started falling even more in love with you. Then we went to Paris, and, I don’t know, it felt like we were really a couple: I got to hold your hand, and kiss you, and just look at you without worrying that you would catch me. It was the greatest feeling in the world, and I didn’t—I don’t want to give it up for anything.” He pauses and brushes my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, wiping away a tear I didn’t even realize had fallen. “So I told my family to go to hell. The whole lot of them—well, minus Andi. She’s the one who took that last picture if you hadn’t already figured that out.”

“I realized that,” I say, sniffing loudly. I can’t even bother caring about the tears streaming down my cheeks now.

“I was going to tell you that night—that I love you,” he whispers.

“I realized that, too,” I admit. “Once I saw the photo, I mean.”

“So, it worked then?”

I nod, making him break out in a relieved grin. “I guess it’s my turn,” I say with a nervous smile.

“You don’t have to say anything, love—”

“No, I do.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “Sirius, I’ve loved you since I was fifteen. And when we were kids, I never thought I deserved someone as amazing as you, because you are so completely out of my league—”

“I’m really not—”

I laugh and bring a hand up to cup his cheek. “You are, which is why I didn’t think you could want me the way I’ve always wanted you. I’m sorry I ran. I’m sorry I didn’t stay and talk things out. I was scared and assumed the worst, and that wasn’t fair to you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s alright. I spent so long letting my family control my life, I don’t blame you for believing that I’d go along with their plan this time.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t. I’ve been officially disowned and cut off,” he says with an air of pride about that fact.

My face splits into a grin. “So, we can do this? We can be together? For real?”

He hums in agreement and brings our foreheads together. “For real,” he whispers.

We both break into a laugh of pure relief and joy. “Kiss me?” I ask.

“Gladly,” he replies before pressing his mouth to mine. I respond immediately, wrapping my arms around his neck to bring me up on my toes. His hand slides into my hair, fingers tangling in my curls as he deepens the kiss, licking into my mouth in a way that makes me feel boneless. I let out a content sigh. With every brush of our lips, the fear and insecurity fades away. He loves me. And yes, I could linger on the fact that we could have been together all this time, but I won’t because ultimately, it doesn’t matter.

I get to have him now.

I get to love him now.

I get to have him love me.

We pull away slowly, breathless and happy. I look up at him and smile. “I love you. I love you, so much,” I whisper.

“I love you.” He grins and drops a kiss to my forehead. “And I have something for you.”

He lets me go, and I stare at him in confusion as he turns to the desk. After a moment of searching on the desk, he turns back to me, holding a small velvet box.

My eyes widen. “Sirius—”

He laughs and holds out the box for me to take. “It’s not what you think. I mean, maybe someday, but no.”

Locking that ‘someday’ comment away in my brain for later, I carefully reach out and take the box, but don’t open it.

“Moony, stop looking at me like I have six heads and just open the box. It’s nothing crazy, I promise.”

I take a deep breath and hold it as I pop the lid of the box open. “It’s a key,” I say, letting go of my breath in a rush. “Pads, we already live together.”

He laughs again and shakes his head. “That’s not what the key is to. Although, now that you mention it, I was kind of thinking I’d like to share a room with you now—but we can talk about that later.”

“Well then, what is the key to?”

He gestures around the room.

“This—you didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You did not buy an art gallery.”

“Oh, but I did.”

I gape at him, look around the room, then look back at him. “You said your parents cut you off.”

“I got access to the trust that the inheritance from my Uncle Alphard was in,” he explains.

“But—‘Nothing crazy,’ Sirius, this is the precise definition of crazy! You spent your inheritance on an art gallery!” I exclaim. He’s always been impulsive, but it was the impulsivity that led to him piercing his own ear in Fourth Form only to have it get infected. This is something else entirely.

“It wasn’t all of it,” he qualifies. “It was a good chunk, but honestly, I think Alphard would have been happy to know that I spent it on something like this. Besides, real estate is an excellent investment, so don’t think of it as a gift as much as it is a business venture.”

I shake my head and take another look around the office—my office?—our office?

“This your dream, though, isn’t it?” He asks, his voice soft and tentative.

“It is,” I admit, deflating in my exasperation. I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around his neck. “And this is really sweet—insane, but sweet.”

He smiles as I lean up to kiss him.

“But, Sirius, I haven’t got a clue how to run a gallery,” I continue. “I’ve learned some things from Minnie over the past few months, but I thought I would have years to learn everything before I could finally have my own gallery. I mean, I don’t really have any artist contacts.”

“Excuse you, but you are living with and sleeping with an artist, thank you very much,” he teases. “Also, you don’t have to do this alone. I didn’t just do this for you, I did it for me, too. For our future. Together.”

“Our future,” I repeat in a whisper, very much liking the way it sounds.

“Yeah. I’ve got some photographer friends that have been dying to get their work into a gallery, we can show my work and that would be pure profit, and as for the running of a gallery—my second degree is in business, don’t you forget, and I’m sure that Minnie would be happy to teach you what we need to know. We can do this, Moons,” he says with confidence.

I nod. His confidence is infectious. It always has been. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do this.”

He grins and pulls me in for an enthusiastic kiss.

I pull away laughing. “You’re still insane, for the record.”

“You say that like it’s news,” he returns. “And like you don’t secretly love it.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really have to keep that a secret anymore, though, do I?”

His face softens, and he leans in for a gentler kiss. “And neither do I.”


	8. Epilogue

###  **Sirius**

“Are you ready, love?” I come up behind Remus in our shared office in the gallery and wrap my arms around his waist.

“I can’t get this stupid tie right,” Remus huffs.

“Here, let me,” I say, batting his hands away. I hook my chin over his shoulder and twist the green floral tie I got him for his birthday into a simple knot. “I’ve been waiting for you to wear this.”

“Well, I haven’t had much of an occasion to wear a tie over the past few months. We’ve been kind of busy,” he points out.

“Fair,” I allow. It’s been about eights months since I bought our gallery, and ever since, we’ve been hard at work trying to get it ready for opening. Remus insisted on putting in a lot of the aesthetic work ourselves rather than hire people in order to save money, which meant a lot of late nights with take-away, t-shirts ruined with paint, and sore muscles. But it was all worth it, because The Wolf and the Star Photography and Art Studio is having its opening event tonight.

“All done,” I say, adjusting the knot one more time before returning my hands to his waist.

“How do I look?” he asks, staring at me in the reflection of the vintage mirror we hung above the couch.

“Very handsome. The tie brings out those gorgeous eyes of yours.” I press a kiss just above his ear and nuzzle his adorable tawny curls.

He sighs, closes his eyes, and tilts his head back to rest against my shoulder. “Pads, what if no one comes?”

“Of course people are going to come,” I assure him. “James and Lily are going to be here, and they put the word out to their coworkers who are all coming. Andi said she and Ted were coming. Plus, the whole point of organizing the art walk with Minnie was to drive people toward us from other galleries.”

“I still think we should have had a soft opening. What if we don’t have enough food? Or what if no one buys anything? And we have the press coming what if they give us a bad—”

“It’s going to be great, Moony. I promise. We’ve put in the work, and Minnie wouldn’t have told us we were ready if we weren’t.” I kiss his hair again, then turn him to face me. “Now, stop worrying, alright?”

He takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. “Yeah, alright.” He leans up, steals a way too brief kiss, then smiles. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” I smile and bring him back for a longer, much more satisfying kiss.

He hums into it, and when we pull away, our foreheads come to rest against each other. “Ok, I think I’m ready,” he whispers.

“Good. Now, let’s go open the doors.”

As expected, the night starts out slow with mostly friends and family showing up to support us, but as the night carries on, more and more people file through the doors, having been directed from the already established galleries that are part of the walk. Remus and I spend most of the night apart, circling the floor and making sure that we greet and chat with every new potential customer that walks in. We don’t make a lot of sales, which was expected since it’s only our opening event, but everyone seems to have a good time, and I hear several people say on their way out that they would either be back or would tell their friend, coworker, or family member about the gallery, so overall, I would say the night is a success.

Around ten-thirty, things start to wind down enough that I’m able to relax. I finish taking down the details of an older couple with flaming red hair who plan to come by tomorrow to pick up their purchase—an abstract painting of a phoenix by an old friend from Hogwarts—and bid goodbye. Across the gallery I spot Remus standing alone for the first time all night. With purpose, I pass by the drinks table, grab two flutes of champagne—my first drink of the night since I’ve been preoccupied with guests—and make my way over to him.

“It was a good turnout,” I muse as I approach him. I pass off the champagne flute, which he takes gratefully, then take a sip from my glass.

“It was. I’ve barely had a moment to myself all night,” Remus says, taking a sip from his glass.

“Same.”

We both sigh, and l step behind him to wrap my arm around his waist.

“So, it sold two prints.” He gestures to the portrait on the wall, the one I took of him standing on the top of the Eiffel Tower. He was hesitant to put it on display because he wasn’t sure anyone would want to buy such a personal piece. But, as the artist, I won in the end.

“Well, it is my best work,” I say before brushing a kiss to his cheek.

“I don’t know about that,” he protests.

“My work is always better when I’ve got you to inspire me.”

“Gross,” he teases. “Why are you so sappy?”

I laugh and kiss him again. “You like it.”

He hums noncommittally, and we fall silent, just enjoying the quiet company.

“I do like the title you picked,” he admits.

I smile and read the plaque underneath the portrait. Billet-Doux en Noir et Blanc. _A love letter in black and white._ “Well, it was, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was.” He turns his head to look at me over his shoulder and smile softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I murmur against his lips before closing the rest of the distance between us.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta reader, R.
> 
> *  
>  **Mod Note**
> 
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